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jungkoode · 2 days ago

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5 SECONDS TO FREEDOM | prologue

˗ˏˋ debts unpaid ˎˊ˗

"In Tokyo's underground, there are only two currencies that matter—respect and reputation. When someone threatens to take both, you don't just race them. You destroy them."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 3.5k

content: street racing culture, debt collection, first meetings, midnight races, dangerous driving, Spanish endearments as provocation, the dynamics of Tokyo's underground scene, and your first defeat in nineteen months.

✧ author's note ✧

Soooo here we fucking go.

I've been obsessing over this story for months—I think we all know that lmaooo I think I posted the teaser like a couple months ago and I was devastated because it barely got 50 notes. But you know what, this was still in my head so I did write some drabbles—and I kind of shaped the prologue, which is what you’re gonna read below hahaha.

“But Kiki we just sent you 45 asks telling you to rest” AND I SAID SIKE??? No actually, I’m okay I promise! Usually writing different stories is what prevents me from burning out, because I get frustrated with the same storyline so it’s like… I write something else and my brain goes ‘yay thanks’. You know, ADHD—shiny new toy, mind dances to the music.

Anyways, so. I love this. I love this because as always I get to experiment with different personalities and psychological backgrounds and what I fucking love about these two is the masks they wear and how opposite they are. He’s cocky and arrogant, but in a different way FMU!jungkook is. She’s determined and ambitious, always pushing for more, but still very distinct from all my other Y/N’s because she’s handling different situations (you’ll see in later chapters).

And Hachiroku and Jaque aren't just racing personas—they're escapes. And what makes this delicious is that they're running from opposite lives. One from privilege, one from struggle. Both finding freedom in the same five seconds at the starting line.

And yes, the cars matter. They're not just vehicles; they're extensions of identity. The AE86 is legendary for a reason—not the most powerful, but perfectly balanced in the hands of someone who knows exactly what they're doing (sound familiar?). Meanwhile, the R34 Skyline is raw, unapologetic power held in check by someone who understands precisely when to unleash it.

AS ALWAYS—READ THE AUTHOR INTRO AND TW listed in the index post. This is a must before reading this story.

Fair warning: this isn't going to be a clean race. These characters are messy. They make decisions that will make you want to scream at them. They'll crash into each other's lives and leave debris everywhere, and the kind of attraction that feels like a guardrail giving way on a mountain pass.

But that's the point, isn't it? The most interesting stories happen in the dangerous curves.

So buckle up. We've got a long road ahead.

Ready? Light’s about to turn green.

Also. Notes for this one are pretty high, that’s intentional. Like I just wanted to post the prologue to have it out for a bit but I still need to work on the arcs and major plot points. So I don’t have the story fully shaped out for now, which is why I want this to rest and check for engagement and reactions. Seriously—don’t crash out, I know this one will take time and that’s absolutely my intention!

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

Respect isn't given in Tokyo's underground—it's paid in cash or blood.

You roll the cherry lollipop against your teeth, counting seconds in your head like engine timing.

Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours since you left Kalo and his overpriced Supra in your rearview on the Hakone downhill, his taillights disappearing around the corner while you took the perfect line through the hairpin that everyone else brakes too hard for.

It's nighttime at Daikoku.

You cross one leg over the other, letting your heeled boot dangle casually off the edge of your AE86's hood. The mini skirt wasn't a random choice. Neither was showing up without your racing gear.

Because tonight isn't about driving—it's about collecting.

"Kalo's nowhere to be seen," Maya says, leaning against your car's hood, arms crossed. "Dipped hard."

You don't bother looking at her, just shift the lollipop to the other side of your mouth with your tongue. The neon from nearby signs reflects off the polished black and white paint of your 86.

"What?" Maya catches your expression. "I'm just saying. Word is he's been avoiding this spot since you embarrassed him."

"While still flashing cash at that club in Roppongi," you add, voice flat. "Buying drinks for anyone who'll listen to his bullshit version of what happened on the mountain."

You tug at one of the layered chains around your neck, watching the crowd that's gathered tonight.

The usual suspects are here—wannabes with more money than skill taking photos of each other's cars, veterans huddled around hoods talking suspension setups, scouts looking for the next race.

Everyone except the one person who should be here with your money.

"So what's the plan?" Maya nudges your shoulder. "Just gonna sit here looking pretty until he magically appears?"

You roll your eyes. "Since when do I just sit and wait for anything?"

"Fair point." She grins that wolfish grin of hers. "So?"

"So I track his ass down." You twist the lollipop stick between your fingers. "He owes me fifty thousand yen. But more than that, he owes me the respect of paying up and admitting I smoked him fair and square."

Maya snorts, exactly as you expected. "Called it. Knew you wouldn't let this slide."

"It's not about the money." You straighten up, adjusting your cropped leather jacket. "It's about the principle. You lose a race, you pay your debts. That's how this works. You don't just disappear like some amateur who can't handle defeat."

"Especially not when he talked all that shit beforehand," Maya adds, picking at her black nail polish. "What was it he said again? Something about how no girl could ever handle his—"

"'No girl could handle my power on the downhill,'" you quote dryly. "Right before I passed him on the outside of that corner everyone brakes for."

The memory brings a slight smile to your face.

The shock in his eyes when you appeared in his side mirror where no car should have been able to fit.

The desperate overcorrection that sent him nearly scraping the guardrail while you smoothly accelerated away.

"Exactly." Maya pushes off your hood. "So what's the first move? Hit his usual spots?"

You pull the lollipop from your mouth with a pop. "Already did. Club Seventh in Roppongi. The garage where his uncle works in Setagaya. That ramen shop he's always at in Shibuya."

"Stalker much?" Maya raises an eyebrow.

"Thorough," you correct her. "There's a difference."

A brief silence falls between you as you both watch a metallic blue GT-R roll into the lot, bass thumping hard enough to vibrate the pavement.

Not Kalo's crowd—these guys run with the Yokohama crew.

"Kenji might know," you say finally, referring to your mutual friend who somehow knows everyone's business in Tokyo's racing scene. "He mentioned Kalo's been hanging around some new spot in Meguro the past week."

Maya pulls out her phone. "Want me to text him now?"

"Already did." You tap your boot against the bumper of your car. "He's supposed to meet us here in—" you check the time on your wrist "—fifteen minutes ago."

"Typical." Maya rolls her eyes. "That guy couldn't be on time if his life depended on it."

You're about to respond when you spot a familiar face weaving through the crowd. Kenji, with his signature sunglasses despite it being well past midnight, making his way toward you.

You straighten up slightly, not wanting to appear too eager for information.

"Ladies," he greets with that irritating smirk of his, adjusting his sunglasses even though there's absolutely no need. "Looking dangerous tonight, Y/N. Someone's not here to race."

"Just tell me what you know about Kalo," you say, cutting through his bullshit.

Kenji leans against your car without asking—a liberty you allow only because he's useful.

"Direct as always. That's what I like about you."

"Kenji," you warn, patience already wearing thin.

"Fine, fine." He holds up his hands in surrender. "Your boy's been hanging at this new garage in Meguro. Place called Midnight Rush. Trying to get in with that crew that runs the Wangan on weekends."

You raise an eyebrow. "The twins' territory? That's desperate even for him."

"After what you did to his reputation?" Kenji shrugs. "Man's gotta find somewhere to start over."

Maya laughs. "Not how this works. You don't just reset when you lose."

"Exactly." You shift your weight, boot heels clicking against the pavement. "So he's there tonight?"

"Should be. They're prepping for some big run tomorrow. Word is there's serious money changing hands. He's trying to buy his way in."

The conversation halts as the distinctive growl of an approaching engine cuts through the night.

Not just any engine—something with a tune you've never heard before.

Sharp. Aggressive. Perfectly balanced.

Heads turn as a midnight purple Skyline R34 GT-R glides into the parking area, before coming to a stop under the harsh parking lot lights.

"Who the hell is that?" Maya straightens up, suddenly alert.

Kenji's expression shifts from boredom to interest in an instant—a rare change for him. "New player. Goes by Jaque."

You study the car, assessing rather than admiring.

Aftermarket body kit, but tasteful. Custom wheels. The stance is aggressive but functional.

Whoever built this wasn't just throwing money at it—they knew exactly what they were doing.

"Jaque?" you repeat, keeping your voice neutral despite your curiosity. "What kind of name is that?"

"Latino guy. Showed up about a month ago." Kenji lowers his voice, shifting into the gossip mode he lives for. "Been cleaning up. Undefeated so far."

Your eyebrow rises slightly at that.

Undefeated is a bold claim in this scene.

"Never heard of him," Maya says, voicing what you're thinking.

"That's because he's been running mostly on the Wangan line. Outrunning cops, taking stupid risks. The kind of shit that gets you noticed fast." Kenji's eyes remain fixed on the car. "Word is he beat Hayato's record on the C1 loop last week."

That gets your attention, though you're careful not to show it.

Hayato's record has stood for three years.

This guy has broken it in a month.

Who the fuck is this?

Your question is answered when the driver's door opens, and the crowd's murmur intensifies. A figure emerges, oozing the confidence of someone who knows they belong anywhere they choose to be.

Not tall, but with a presence that fills the space around him. Dark hair, sharp jawline, and a smirk that suggests he's already three steps ahead of everyone else.

"He drives like he's got nothing to lose," Kenji adds, a note of genuine respect in his voice that you rarely hear. "Like he doesn't care if he crashes or dies. It's... I don’t know man. Something else."

You watch as the driver—Jaque, apparently—leans back against his Skyline, surveying the crowd like he's taking inventory.

His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, until it lands on your group.

Or more specifically, on you.

He gives you a small nod, as if acknowledging territory.

"Looks like you've got an admirer," Maya mutters, nudging your ribs.

You shrug, unimpressed. "Looks like another ego with a nice car."

But you don't look away, and neither does he. It's a standoff of sorts, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact.

You've played this game before with countless racers who thought they were hot shit.

You've never been the first to look away.

"Don't dismiss him so quickly," Kenji warns, surprising you. "I've seen him drive. I’m dead serious, it’s not normal."

"Nobody's unbeatable," you say, finally breaking the staring contest to look back at Kenji.

Just because you had to look back at Kenji.

"Maybe." Kenji shifts uncomfortably. "But this guy... he doesn't race like a normal person. It's like he's got some kind of death wish, but with the skill to back it up."

You scoff, though something about Kenji's tone—the genuine concern beneath his usual bullshit—gives you pause.

"Death wish or not, a car's a car, and physics is physics. There are rules to this game that nobody breaks."

Maya's watching you with that knowing look she gets when she can tell someone's gotten under your skin, even just a little.

"You want to find out, don't you?"

"I want to find Kalo and get my money," you correct her, though your eyes drift back to the Skyline against your will. "That's why we're here."

You scoff at Maya's knowing smirk, about to tell her to shut it when fragments of conversation float over from where the newcomer stands. One word cuts through the ambient noise of engines and chatter.

Kalo.

Your head snaps toward the source.

The Skyline guy—Jaque—leans against his car, talking to a small circle of racers. His hands move expressively as he speaks, gold bracelet catching the neon light.

"Kenji." You cut him off mid-sentence. "Who exactly is this guy talking to?"

Kenji follows your gaze. "Nobody important. Some Yokohama kids trying to get noticed." He adjusts those stupid sunglasses. "Why?"

"He just mentioned Kalo."

Maya straightens beside you. "You sure?"

No mistaking it. Not when you've been hunting that name for two weeks.

"Excuse me," you say, already moving.

Maya sighs behind you. "Here she goes again."

You don't look back. Your boots click purposefully across the pavement, moving slowly. Not rushing—you never rush. But determined.

Three guys surrounding Jaque glance up as you approach, their expressions shifting from interest to wariness. They know who you are.

He doesn't turn immediately. Keeps talking, voice carrying a rhythm unlike anything you've heard in Tokyo. An accent that doesn't belong here.

Only when you're close enough to count the stitches on his leather jacket does he acknowledge your presence.

And even then, it's just a partial turn. Forty-five degrees. Neck cradling slightly to look at you sideways.

Performative, if anything. Like he knew you were coming before you did.

You cross your arms, weight shifting to one hip. His mouth twitches upward at the corner, eyes traveling from your face down to your boots and back up again.

Not subtle about it at all.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this sight?" Velvet slides from his lips.

One eyebrow quirks upward, the slightest movement. His Japanese is fluent but different—consonants softened, vowels stretched in places they shouldn't be.

You narrow your eyes. "You mentioned Kalo. What do you know about him? What's your relationship?"

He studies you for two full seconds. Not answering. Just looking. Like he's trying to read something written in small print.

Then he chuckles, using two fingers to move a thin strand of dark hair that's fallen across his view. The movement is unnecessary. Theatrical. Done for effect.

"Why so serious, princesa?"

It’s Spanish, the last word. You know that much, know from the way the word rolls off his tongue, deliberate, inserted where it doesn't belong. Like he’s testing boundaries, hoping for a reaction.

"I asked you a question." You keep your voice unimpressed.

"And I asked you one too."

He turns to face you fully now, leaning back against his car with the casualness of someone who's never been afraid of anything.

"But since you came all this way... Kalo. The Supra guy, right? The one who races like he learned driving from a video game?"

The description is so accurate you almost smile.

Almost.

"I hear he owes someone money," he continues, watching your reaction carefully. "Someone who smoked him on the mountain course two weeks back. Embarrassed him so badly he's been hiding like a scared rabbit."

His three companions take subtle steps backward, no longer interested in being part of this conversation.

Smart.

Maya appears beside you, silent backup. Though her presence changes nothing in his demeanor.

"And how would you know about that?" you ask.

He shrugs one shoulder.

"People talk. I listen." His accent thickens when he adds, "Es lo que hago." (It’s what I do)

"Is that right?" You don't react to the Spanish. "Interesting that someone who just showed up knows so much about other people's business."

"I'm observant."

His eyes lock with yours.

"For example, I observe that you're not here to race tonight. That outfit? Those heels?" He clicks his tongue. "You're here to collect. To make a point."

Something cold slides down your spine. Not fear—you don't do fear. Something else.

Being read so easily isn't a sensation you're familiar with.

"What's your name again?" You ask it like you've already forgotten, though you haven't.

"Jaque." He says it with a slight emphasis on the second syllable. "And you're Y/N. The 86 driver who hasn't lost a mountain race in what, two years?"

"Nineteen months," Maya corrects automatically.

You shoot her a look.

Jaque's smile widens. "Nineteen months. Impressive."

"If you're done wasting my time," you say, turning slightly, "I have a debt to collect."

"From a guy who isn't here."

He pushes off his car, closing the distance between you by half a step. Not enough to be threatening. Just enough to make his presence unavoidable.

"And won't be. Not tonight," he adds.

"And you know that how?"

"Because I passed him on the expressway heading in the opposite direction. About twenty minutes ago." He taps his wrist where a watch would be. "Running scared, looked like."

You clench your jaw. If he's telling the truth, you've wasted your night. Another dead end in your hunt for the coward who owes you.

"So you just happened to recognize a stranger's car?" Maya asks, skepticism heavy in her voice.

"A white Supra with that terrible aftermarket body kit and the Rising Sun decal on the hood?" He makes a dismissive gesture. "Hard to miss. Hard to forget, unfortunately."

That description matches Kalo's car exactly; and the sick feeling in your stomach tells you he's not lying, as much as you'd like him to be.

"Well," you say, voice cooling by several degrees, "thanks for the information."

You turn to leave, disgusted at having your time wasted. First by Kalo's absence, now by this newcomer who clearly just wanted to get your attention. Another night, another waste.

"I'll pay you double what he owes you."

The words stop you mid-step.

You turn back slowly, measuring every movement.

"Excuse me?"

Jaque's expression hasn't changed, but something in his eyes has.

They’re gleaning.

"Fifty thousand yen, right? I'll make it a hundred." He says casually, like offering to buy a coffee. "If you beat me."

Maya makes a small sound beside you, something between a scoff and a laugh.

"And why would I race someone I don't know for money I don't need?"

You almost laugh. As if this is about the money. You were born into more yen than he’s ever seen—this is about respect. About principle. About owning your loss when someone beats you clean. No excuses. No saving face. Just bow your head and pay what you owe.

But he’s not done.

"Because you're curious." He says it like it's obvious. "Because you've been the best for nineteen months and you're bored. Because you want to know if I'm as good as they say."

"As good as who says?" You roll your eyes. "I've never heard of you before tonight."

"Then I must be doing something right." His smile shifts, becomes syrupy. "But if money doesn't motivate you, how about this—I win, I get to run with your crew. Race in your territory."

You can't help it—you laugh. Short and dismissive.

"That's not how this works. You don't just buy your way in." Your eyes flick to his car. "No matter how pretty your GT-R is."

"I'm not buying," he corrects, that accent slipping into his Japanese again. "I'm earning. Difference."

You narrow your eyes.

Maya leans close to your ear. "You're not seriously considering this?"

You should walk away. This guy is nobody. A newcomer with a nice car and too much confidence. The racing scene sees them every month. They come, they crash, they disappear.

But.

Something about the way he stands there, utterly certain of himself, gets under your skin.

Like he already knows your answer before you do.

And maybe it's the wasted night. Maybe it's two weeks of hunting Kalo with nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just the need to put someone in their place.

"One race," you hear yourself say.

Maya's head whips toward you in surprise.

"One race," you continue, "and when I win, you pay double what Kalo owes me, and you don't bother me again."

"And when I win," he counters, not missing a beat, "I race with your crew. Simple."

"If," you correct.

"When." He doesn't back down.

One calculated step closer brings his scent into focus. Leather, naturally, but beneath it something that doesn't compute. A scent that belongs to ryokan inns and meditation halls, not this arrogant foreigner.

Hinoki.

"You're awfully confident for someone who knows nothing about me or how I drive."

"And you're awfully defensive for someone who's supposedly unbeatable." His voice drops lower, meant for your ears only. "What are you afraid of, princesa?"

The Spanish word again. A barb. Challenging.

"Afraid?" You match his tone. "I'm trying to save you the embarrassment. And the money."

He laughs, so genuine that it catches you off guard. "So it's settled then. You and me. Tonight."

From the corner of your eye, you see Kenji approaching, drawn by the developing scene. Others are watching too.

Word travels fast in this world.

"Fine." You extend your hand, a formality in this world of verbal contracts. "My terms. My course."

He takes your hand. His grip is firm but not aggressive. Just right. His palm warm against yours.

"Your course," he agrees. "But I pick when."

You raise an eyebrow. "When, then?"

His smile widens, showing teeth. "Now."

Death has a rhythm.

Tonight, it sounds like Daddy Yankee.

The mountain is yours—every curve, every shadow, every inch of guardrail. You've memorized each crack in the asphalt like the lines on your palm.

Yet as you sit at the starting line, engine purring, the midnight purple Skyline beside you blasts "Gasolina" loud enough to vibrate your windows.

He's not even looking at the road.

Jaque's got hand on the wheel, the other tapping the window frame in rhythm.

Kenji stands between the cars, arms raised.

You grip your steering wheel tighter.

Focus. Calculate. This is your mountain. Your rules.

"Ready!" Kenji shouts.

You check your gauges, settle into position, drop your breath rate. Your 86 is an extension of your body.

"Set!"

Jaque turns to you—actually turns his head away from the road—and winks.

Winks.

What the fuck is his problem?

Your jaw clenches so hard you hear teeth grinding.

"GO!"

You snap into the first gear immediately, launching forward as your tires bite into asphalt. Perfect traction. Perfect release. Your 86 shoots ahead exactly as calculated, exactly as it always does.

The Skyline stays even.

First corner approaches—tight right-hander with a nasty camber that catches amateurs by surprise. You brake at the perfect moment, downshift, feel the weight transfer as you clip the apex.

Textbook. Flawless. The corner you've taken hundreds of times.

The Skyline mirrors you exactly, staying in your blind spot. The bass from his music is still thumping through the night air.

Second corner. Third. Fourth. Each attack perfect, each line immaculate. And still, he's there. Not gaining, not falling behind. Just... present. Like a shadow you can't shake.

"What the hell is this guy playing at?" You mutter, taking the next hairpin with a controlled aggression that should give you an advantage.

Should.

Doesn't.

The Skyline follows, its midnight paint swallowing the moonlight instead of reflecting it. Through the next three corners, it continues—you lead, he follows, neither gaining ground.

Until the straightaway.

The road opens up, and you floor it. The 86 responds instantly, pushing you back into your seat. This is where your lighter weight should shine.

But the Skyline surges forward, twin-turbo engine unleashing a growl that slices the night.

He passes you.

Not aggressively. Not dangerously.

Just... efficiently.

Like it's the most natural thing in the world.

For the first time in nineteen months, you're staring at someone else's taillights.

"No fucking way."

You push harder, finding speed you rarely tap into. The gap closes slightly on the approach to the next corner—a sharp left with a cliff drop on the outside.

No guardrail. No room for error.

Normal people brake early here.

Jaque, as it turns out, is not normal people.

You don't brake until the last possible microsecond, throwing the 86 into the corner. The tires scream, traction at its absolute limit. You can feel them searching for grip, dancing on the edge of adhesion.

You exit the corner a car length behind him.

"Come on!" You slam the gearshift, pushing for more.

The next section is technical—five corners in quick succession. Your territory.

It's where precision matters more than power.

You close the gap. Corner by corner, inch by inch. Three more and you're on his bumper. Close enough to see his fingers still tapping against the frame slightly to the rhythm.

The next hairpin is your chance. The inside line is risky—there's barely enough room—but it's your mountain.

You know exactly how much space you need.

You dive for the gap.

For one beautiful moment, you're alongside him. Equal. Your front bumper inches past his door.

Then he does something impossible.

Instead of defending the line—instead of doing what any rational driver would do—Jaque throws his car into a drift so aggressive it sends the back end swinging wide, nearly touching the guardrail.

The move creates an arc that cuts you off, forces you to brake or crash.

You brake.

The maneuver costs him speed, should give you another chance to pass on exit.

But before you can capitalize, he's already accelerating out of the drift, the Skyline's all-wheel drive finding traction where none should exist.

"What the actual—"

The move was insane. Suicidal. The kind of thing that ends with twisted metal and sirens.

And he pulled it off like he was parallel parking.

For the final stretch—three corners and the last straightaway—you throw caution aside. Push beyond limits you usually respect. The 86 responds, giving everything it has.

It's not enough.

The Skyline crosses the finish line two car lengths ahead. You slam your palm against the steering wheel.

The taste of defeat is metallic in your mouth, foreign and despised.

You bring the 86 to a hard stop, tires protesting at the sudden deceleration.

The music still pounds from his car. That same goddamn song.

You throw open your door, adrenaline and anger propelling you forward. The cool mountain air hits your flushed face as you storm toward his car.

Because that last move? It wasn't just reckless—it was deadly. The kind of stunt that gets people killed on these mountains.

Words build in your throat. Sharp words. Words about respect for the mountain and death wishes and arrogance.

His door swings open as you approach. The music blasts louder without the barrier of glass and metal. He slides out with that same casual grace you saw when he called you princesa, when he winked before accelerating.

And something stops the words in your throat.

He shakes his head slightly, dark hair falling across his eyes before he pushes it back with one smooth motion. His other hand remains on the Skyline's roof, some golden ring catching the moonlight.

When he turns to face you, there's no triumph in his expression. No arrogance.

Just... satisfaction.

Like he's found something he's been looking for.

His eyes meet yours across the short distance. That smile appears again—not the cocky smirk from earlier, but something more genuine. Lips curved just slightly at the corners.

"Thanks for the adrenaline rush, mami," he says, voice carrying over the pounding beat of Daddy Yankee.

You've never hated Spanish music more in your life.

goal: 500 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @jkrailme @graydolan12

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lachesismoonmist · 3 days ago

Text

I've Been Watching You - Chp 5

Furries, Hot Babe, Cheese Scrambled Eggs

Rating: Mature. Minors dni

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook / Reader

Words: Total: 73k

Status: Complete. 5 out of 26

Summary There's a hot new guy in the gym. You can't keep your eyes off him, and it seems he can't keep his off you either. What starts out as Friends-with-Benefits turns into something a lot more complicated as your past comes back to haunt you and you find out your best friend's long-kept secret.

Originally posted on AO3

MY MASTERLIST

Chapter 5 - Furries, Hot Babe, Cheese Scrambled Eggs

I woke up with a start, disoriented as to where I was. I saw moonlight stream in from some tall glass windows, and I felt a warm arm resting on my waist.

I shifted slightly to turn towards the source of the warm breath I felt on my hair. “Jungkook” I breathed, mesmerized by how beautiful and peaceful he looked in sleep. How deep his breathing was, and how he’d snore a little now and then.

It was so tempting to just snuggle against him and go back to sleep. But I knew I couldn’t. I gingerly lifted his arm off me and slid ever so slowly away from him till his tattooed arm rested on the bed. He let out a slightly louder snore and I froze. But when he settled down, I tiptoed around the bed to retrieve my dress. The small clock on his desk read 04:00. I found a small note pad on the desk, so pulled off a piece as I searched for something to write with. I found a purple marker that was grape scented and giggled softly to find such a kiddy item on this big man’s desk. I scribbled on the note, folded it in half and left it on Jungkook’s nightstand.

My purse was sitting on the breakfast counter, and I shivered as I walked past the kitchen counter where Jungkook had eaten me out late last night. Or was it early this morning. I let myself out, closing the front door slowly with a soft “click”.

On the drive back home, I thought about the night's events. Having to fend off a drunk date. Showing up at Jungkook’s apartment with him looking like sin. Having mind-blowing sex. Falling asleep in his arms. There was just something about him that made me feel safe. That made me want to open up and let him in. It’d been four years, but I was afraid to go there. Afraid of what I might find waiting for me.

When I got home, I stepped into my bathroom to remove my make-up. Or what was left of my make-up. My reflection told me my lipstick was totally non-existent, but then my eyes almost popped out of my head.

There on my neck, was the largest hickey I’d ever seen. I touched it experimentally and hissed when I felt how sore the area was. And… were those teeth marks? I quickly stripped off my dress, and sure enough, there was another angry hickey on the left breast, just beside the nipple.

What the hell! I stepped into the shower, gingerly touching the tender area on my neck, moving to the side so that the spray from the shower was hitting my other shoulder. I made quick work of washing up, then sat on my bed in my fluffy bathrobe, my hair wrapped in a towel. I snatched my phone off my nightstand.

[Sexy Vet] You gave me a humongous hickey! And I think I see teeth marks! You’re lucky I can wear a tee or shirt with a high neck under my scrubs! This is going to take more than a week to fade! You are SOOOO going to pay for this Big Boy.

All my tiredness came rushing back then. I dropped my phone on my bed, lay down, and fell asleep.

----------------------

Something was buzzing. Something nearby. I opened my eyes, saw my phone beside me, picked it up and blearily looked at the time. 10am.

[Hot Gym JK] Good morning to you too. Take it as punishment for not letting me try your cheese scrambled eggs for breakfast.

[Sexy Vet] The punishment is totally disproportionate to the crime! Besides, you did this before there was even any talk about breakfast!

[Hot Gym JK] Potay-toes, Potar-toes. Speaking of talk before breakfast, you left so quietly! Where did you go in the dead of night?

I racked my brain furiously for some kind of reason. [Sexy Vet] I had to go check on a patient of mine. The clinic is closed today since it’s a holiday. My staff gave me an update yesterday but I just wanted to go check.

[Hot Gym JK] Well, I woke up in an empty bed. I feel like the discarded boy toy, who only got left with a note that said “I had a great time, Tiger”.

[Sexy Vet] That is NOT what my note said!

[Hot Gym JK] Well, it might as well have been. ‘Thanks for the orgasms, Big Boy' isn’t much better! You’re welcome by the way. You haven’t seen my best work yet. You only had two.

I giggled but felt bad about slipping away before he woke up. I extended the olive branch. [Sexy Vet] Are you doing anything today?

[Hot Gym JK] No plans. Was going to go through my photo equipment and do some spring cleaning. But I’d welcome any excuse not to subject myself to such mind-numbing torture.

[Sexy Vet] Wanna come with me to my clinic in the afternoon? I’m going back in to check on a few furries. Then if you don’t mind having eggs for dinner, I’ll make you my cheese scrambled eggs.

[Hot Gym JK] Whoa. Furries. Hot babe. Cheese scrambled eggs? It’s ON. What time?

[Sexy Vet] 4pm? See you at the clinic.

[Hot Gym JK] Got it. See you later sweetness.

-------------------------

Stepping into the clinic always gave me that feeling of coming home. The way the sunlight streamed through the huge glass panel at the front, warming the light-colored pinewood floors. The light smell of geranium and rosewater from the diffuser that sat on the receptionist’s counter. The teal and amethyst color scheme of the furniture. It was during these quiet moments in the clinic that I felt like this was where I was meant to be.

I walked past my office to the back of the clinic where the current patients who needed treatment were staying. The patient I had mentioned to Jungkook was a very old chihuahua. He looked to be sleeping soundly at the moment. The resident tabby, Ginger, meowed at me from her perch near the ceiling in the cat tree that took up one corner of the long room.

I went over to clean out Ginger’s litter tray, then changed the water in bowls of a Golden Retriever and a Mini Schnauzer. For the two rabbits I changed out their straw so that my assistant wouldn’t have to when she came in the next morning. We also had one fuzzy Malti-poo, who was running around in circles in his pen, jumping and barking at me for attention.

“Hey, slow down Coco. You’re going to open up your stitches”. I took a chew from the bucket near the window and gave one to him. “That should keep you occupied for a while”.

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

[Hot Gym JK] Hey, I’m here outside the clinic.

[Sexy Vet] Be right there.

I walked back out to the front of the house, surprised when Ginger followed me. There he was, standing outside, looking yummy in a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, and a pair of coffee colored cargo shorts. Caramel colored loafers completed his outfit. It was pretty windy out, so I watched as he ran his big hand through his hair in an effort to tame it.

He saw me just as I reached the front door and broke out into a smile which made his cute dimples appear.

“Hey”.

“Hey, Big Boy. Welcome to Artemis Sanctuary”.

“It’s so peaceful today. When I brought Bam in it was a hive of activity! But your staff were all very calm and assuring. Bam got a kick out of licking the face of one of your vet assistants”.

“That would have been Eun-Young”, I smiled. “She loves animals and is always more than happy to let the furries get a lick in or two."

“Were you here that day? It was two Thursdays ago?” Jungkook asked as he walked around the lobby, stopping at a huge cork board filled to the seams with thank you notes and photos of people with their furkids. He smiled widely, reading the happy messages.

“Nope, I don’t come in every day. There are two other vets who work here, and we have a good team of vet assistants. I do drop in for a few special cases.”

He nodded, as he moved away from the message board. Then he stopped and sniffed the air. “Is that…”

“Geranium. Yup. It’s my favorite scent. Always reminds me of fresh flowers after the rain. I take it you like too right, given all your bath products have geranium in them”.

He nodded sheepishly “Guilty”.

“That’s why you always smell so good” I blurted out, then covered my mouth with my hand, eyes wide, hoping Jungkook hadn’t heard me.

He looked at me with one eyebrow up “Is that right?” he walked towards me, crowding me against the reception counter. “You know, some say that if you like the way the person smells…”

Just then, Ginger decided to say hello, walking up to Jungkook, rubbing the side of her face on his leg, weaving in and out between his feet.

“Wow, Ginger must like the way you smell too. She isn’t always this friendly with strangers”.

“What can I say, I have a way with pussies” and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively at me.

I laughed and pushed him away, then led him into the backroom.

----------------------

Ginger padded alongside us and went back up to the top of her cat tree. I didn’t hear any barking, so Coco must still be busy with the chew I gave him.

I led Jungkook to the Chihuahua’s cage.

“This is my special case, Nuri.” Jungkook knelt down to take a closer look.

“He’s having renal issues, cataracts, is losing his hearing and is generally weak. He’d been with his family for 20 years. It’s been heartbreaking to watch them watch him deteriorate. We’d recently found a lump on his stomach, and the prognosis wasn’t looking good. They’d decided against surgery, wanting to give him as much quality of life as possible.”

“20 years is a long time. He must really be a big part of the family,”. Jungkook said quietly.

“Yes, he was there to welcome all the new additions to the family. He’s the proud older brother of a pair of twin boys, and a girl. They never go anywhere without him. When we first opened four years ago, he’d run around our little garden out front with the kids. Now he can barely walk”.

Jungkook looked up at me sadly, and to my surprise his eyes were shiny with what looked like unshed tears.

“How do you deal with the sadness? Seeing people losing their furkids? I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Bam”.

“I have to be strong for them, to help them come to terms with what their furkids are going through, and to help them find the courage to let go when it’s finally time. I remind them of the happy times they had together, and that they’ll be united again in the afterlife.”

I took a deep breath. “It hasn’t been easy. When my first golden retriever died, I was inconsolable for weeks. I’d wander around school with puffy eyes, bursting into tears at the slightest detail that reminded me of Hyeri.” I gazed into the distance, as memories came flooding back.

Jungkook reach up and held my hand, eyes soft with sympathy.

“It took me three years before I could even bear having another dog, or pet. It got easier over time. The first one is always the hardest”.

Jungkook stood up then and pulled me into his arms. He squeezed me, put his head on top of mine, tucking me into his shoulder.

“Well, I admire your strength and compassion. It’s hard to be so strong for other people all the time. No wonder Artemis is doing so well. People know that you really care”.

I smiled at his compliment, and his insight into the entire philosophy behind Artemis.

“It was a hard and bumpy road to get here, but we did it in the end”.

Just then, his stomach growled loudly, making us both burst out laughing.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“I think I had half a rock melon after texting you, then I got lost in organizing my photography stuff.”

“Come on, I promised you a cheese scrambled egg”.

We turned off the main lights, leaving a few night lights on for the furkids. After locking the front door, I noticed my car was the only one in the carpark.

“You didn’t drive? How did you get here?”

“I got an Uber.”

“And how were you planning on getting home?”

“Well, I assumed I’d be riding with you,” he smirked.

I laughed “Ok Big Boy. You can ride with me. Let’s get you fed”.

Jungkook took my hand and swung it playfully all the way to the car. "This cheese scrambled eggs had better be mind-blowing, after all the hype."

“Don't worry, it will be. Even if they aren't, I can think of other ways to blow your mind".

Previous (Chp4)

Tag: @bhonbhon

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jk fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction

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riddlemearose · 2 months ago

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The three of them stand atop the grassy knoll near Ginner Woods. Flora holds the shield tightly with both hands, eyeing up the slope in front of her and very sincerely wondering why she’d agreed to this.

“Not to be a downer,” Twilight drawls, his own shield in hand, “but there’s a pretty big rock in the way.”

He’s not wrong. While the slope of the hill is nice and gentle with lush grass all the way to the shores of Nirvata Lake, there’s still a large boulder halfway down it that does not look like it is going to move, regardless of how strong Twilight is.

Wild rolls his eyes. “Farosh’s lightning, first the Talus, now the boulder!”

Flora snickers at that.

Ah, yes, the Stone Talus.

Considering how Wild had dealt with the last Talus they’d come across – an odd combination of a few bomb arrows and more ladles than she realised he had even been carrying around in the Slate – it had somehow been just as entertaining to watch Twilight handle this one with an oversized ball and chain while Wild shouted unhelpful ideas and teasing words of encouragement from the sidelines.

“You see, I can kill a Talus, Wild.” Twilight shoots back. “But that’s a boulder. They're not exactly killable.”

“So don’t run into it.” Wild suggests with faux-innocence and darts away when Twilight goes to punch him in the shoulder. “Hey! I'm giving you solutions; what more do you want?!”

(Full fic 'got your heart in a headlock' can be read on AO3 here.)

#silly deleted scene from a fic i'm working on but im too amused by it to let it sit in my deleted scenes word doc forever #turns out my brain Did Not want to have to work out how to write shield surfing even tho i have no doubts its not even that hard to write #but oh well #linked universe #lu wild #lu twilight #lu flora #riddel's fics #yes im absolutely referencing my spoon theory fic bc i still need to work out how many ladles it takes to kill a stone talus #deleted scenes #in case that ever becomes a tag i wanna keep track of lmao #dont mind me finally linking the fic this was deleted from like five days after I posted it on ao3 #I FORGOT LMAO

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splickedylit · 2 months ago

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I saw an ask mention "Saviors" and it sounded neat, but I've hunted through your Ao3s and can't find it. Where can I read this, if I can still read it? I love your stuff btw.

That's because it was never actually posted! Saviors of the World was a humanstuck superheroes fic that I started dreaming up more than a decade ago when I was worse at naming things. I did a lot of writing+art for it, and did a lot of talking about on here, especially the interpersonal dynamics and character work! But I never really managed to pull it together into a full fic. Then I went through a stretch where Homestuck fell off my Dopamine List, and when I came back to it I was like "Hm. This is not a house, or even a construction site, it is a collection of 2x4s nailed inexpertly together with a lot of lovingly-crafted furniture prematurely placed in it" lololol.

If I were to make something of it now, it would need a re-plot and a full rewrite of everything I wrote way back then, and a lot of the stuff in the old tag would be partially or completely jossed. I don't see a high chance of me coming back to it at this point--but for a decade or so there I would have said the same thing about the scraps of melodrama that used to be called "In Cold Blood", which are now 200,000 completed words of Karkat Vantas vs The Evil Gods! So honestly, who knows. :D

Anyway, you're welcome to go through the tag "Saviors of the World" if you'd like to get the vibe, but be warned it's absolutely chock full of uhhh underdeveloped art and immature prose, haha. I do my best to give some respect to the stepping stones that got me where I am, all art is good art because you're making art which improves your art but oof. I have come a LONG way, haha.

#Saviors of the World #<<there you go. Feel free to browse my ancient meandering I guess. If you want. I will not be joining you I will crumple and implode #such a blast from the past lol I did NOT have any staying power on long fics back then! Not helped by the fact I didn't plot things out #like. at all uU_U Listen I love my writing style of writing the fun scenes then connecting them but you have to wield it carefully #and figure out the broad strokes BEFORE you start. And in my case. Force yourself to limit how much you post excerpts #because if I post too much and get engagement and good brain juice without actually finishing the work. My brain goes ''HOORAY DONE''#and then I don't actually do the work it turns out lmaooo

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foxcassius · 7 months ago

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this would actually be such a dream job if i ever made it big from writing and it turns out i did like all my writing on the clock here. in an interview ten years from now and they ask how i found the time to write so i say lol i wrote on the clock and the library like sues me or smth

#i have ACTUALLY been feeling my end of the world ocs recently....but only the characters i do not want to write the plot #i did some more development on yuri divorce this afternoon though im not happy with all of it #yuri divorce is turning into like. a prequel/backstory for a larger/later book or smth #they definitely do nottttt get back together in the end #charlie and the vampos.....they are always in my brain you understand but my current google doc for draft 2 is making me feel sooooo blah #so maybe i'll open a new one and write out of order #and then there's my what if two gods were in heaven and one killed the other with a rock would that be fucked up or what ocs #i think i will make them yuri despite originally writing them as mlm because i can do whatever i want #also there was a great deal of fridging happening as it stood so. i guess all the characters will be women. just 100% of them #because when the main characters were dudes they were like the only dudes surrounded by girls and i dont wannaaaaa genderbend all the #characters i like the moom goddess too much i like how the dynamic of the moon goddess and sun goddess plays if they are sisters #if theyre brothers it doesnt carry the same #maybe i'll work on something for the last hour and a half of my shift. all the shitty ya books i've been reading are making me sick #i need some good regular books to read instead #t

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philosians · 3 months ago

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ɪɴᴅᴜʟɢᴇɴᴄᴇ

a three week paid-vacation provided by your captain gave rise to the opportunity to finally show you the gift sylus had gotten you. and no, it isn’t the yacht you’re on—but he wouldn’t be opposed to giving you that either.

[ !! ] — mdni | established relationship, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, fingering, oral (female receiving), praise kink, mating press, unprotected sex, sylus is soft in the bedroom okay now hush ;; alcohol mention (sylus drinks whiskey), fluff. oh did I mention soft! sylus?? uhhh maybe more tags than this idk there’s a lot going on lmao. unedited af I know that’s a warning. if y’all see cut sentences just know it’s a brain glitch >.< lol

a/n: Happy Valentine’s Day! phew i got this out before it ended hehe just in the nick of time. I do wanna forewarn everyone I don’t actively write smut so I deeply apologize for any sort of repetitiveness or just it being inaccurate and rushed overall, my apologies. but please enjoy reading! bc i wanna curl up and die and delete this after writing it actually lmao I’ll probably never write anything like this again haha

word count: roughly 4.8k

The starry expanse of sky moves quickly outside of the window of the car, nothing but a blur of cosmic colors. Where you’re going you’re not quite sure, with all the secrecy from Sylus and the twins. It’s something Sylus has clearly planned for awhile, from the way he wanted you to dress tonight, but you’re still unable to put your finger on it.

At the very least, you’re glad that Kieran is the one that’s driving instead of Luke.

“Are you two going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“Afraid not, Miss,” Kieran replies. “That’d be against orders from Boss.”

“Are we at least almost there yet?” you ask.

“We have about ten more minutes,” Luke chirps. “Then you’ll finally get to see Boss, don’t worry.”

You’re stunned into a mild fluster and look at your hands in your lap. You heard the twins snicker and you can’t help but shake your head incredulously. Oh well. You’re almost to your destination anyway.

After the last two months of an increase in Wanderer appearances, you could most certainly use a break. It’s been nothing short of hectic, battles here and evacuations there and the occasional dumbass that doesn’t want to listen to the warnings given out that an area is too dangerous to go into.

You softly sigh. You really shouldn’t be thinking about work.

You tug the large coat on your shoulders over you further, closing your eyes and sinking into the warmth and the smell of the man it belonged to.

Whatever in the world Sylus had planned must be big, even so that he couldn’t be bothered to tell even the twins exactly what he had in store. All the three of you knew was that he had a surprise, and the two brothers were more than happy to have the opportunity to have the base to themselves.

You just wish you knew where you were going.

“Is this it?”

“I think so. Ah, there’s Boss.”

Oh, already?

True to word, you open your eyes and see a familiar patch of silver against the darkness of the world. And you also happen to see a very, very large yacht not far from him.

A marina? You blink incredulously. A private fucking marina. Good lord, how much money does this man really have?

Upon stopping, you watch as Sylus turns his head slightly to the car. Luke quickly jumps from the passenger side and opens the door for you, ushering his hand outward dramatically and says, “After you, Miss.”

The heel of your shoe clicks against pavement as you step out, holding Luke’s hand for stability until you find your balance.

“Thanks, Luke.”

“Not a problem! Enjoy the honey— Uh, vacation!”

Luke jumps back into the car, more than likely to save himself from your questioning eyes. You can’t help but shake your head and make your way toward Sylus and the man in uniform, more than likely the captain of the yacht.

“Ah, Mrs. Sylus,” greets the captain with a tilt of his hat. His eyes blink as he does a once-over on you and then laughs. “I was wondering what kind of woman would tie such a man down, and now I understand. Please, come aboard.”

Your brows raise at Sylus as the captain pivots and boards the yacht. “Care to explain that?”

Sylus, in all his audacity, simply shrugs and smiles. “Nothing to explain, sweetie. He came up with that himself after I told him my lady would be joining me.”

You scoff in disbelief, but can’t help the small smile that falls to your lips. You take Sylus’s arm, wrapped your hand in the crook of his elbow as he leads you onto the ship.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, gazing around as he takes you to the deck. And you could only imagine what it would be like when you went out to sea.

“I figured you would like it,” he murmurs. “Glad to see my instincts weren’t wrong.”

You don’t miss the way his red eyes look to you, knowing he’s waiting for your words of affirmation. You laugh behind your hand, because yeah, he’s right.

You hum, taking his hand in your own. “Thank you for considering me.”

You also don’t miss the way his large fingers eagerly twine with your own, nor the way his eyes soften and blend with devotion and affection.

“Always.”

Thirty minutes pass before the ship takes off into the open sea. You barely feel it until Sylus has you stand to take you back outside from the dining area.

“So, where are we going?” you ask, gazing up at him.

Sylus’s mouth twitches into a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

You grumble, humoring the man. “Of course it is.”

Sylus’s coat never leaves your shoulders the couple hours you’re both out on the deck. He seems to enjoy that, too; you wearing his clothes sparks something behind his eyes that you’re all too familiar with. The thought itself has your cheeks warming and thighs pressing together.

He flicks his wrist to check his watch when a timer beeps twice. You can’t help it when your eyes linger on his hand. You’ve always had a fixation on his them—on how big and warm they are in comparison to yours, on how his long fingers stretch across your body, and how they gently wrap around you and pull you close like he’d die without touching you. Those hands that had once forced you to attempt to resonate with him for three days had become soft, remorseful and loving. And he’d more than earned your forgiveness.

“Dinner should be ready.”

You grin. “You brought your chef?”

“Just for this trip,” he retorts, standing to full height. “Come.” His hand outstretches to you and you take it without hesitation.

You don’t miss the way his eyes briefly light up at the way your fingers immediately interlace with his. It’s a small joy to you, but to him it means everything—a testament to how far the two of you have come.

Dinner, as always, is perfect. Dessert even more so. You’re not too full, but more than satisfied. You give your compliments to the chef, who in turn happily skips back to the kitchen like he’s on cloud nine. And you can’t help but look at Sylus and smile as he downs his whiskey like it’s water.

“You don’t compliment your chef enough,” you comment. “One sentence from me and he acts like he’s never heard praise.”

Sylus hums as his brows raise, humored. He chuckles with the whiskey in his mouth before swallowing it to retort, “He knows his cooking is excellent. I suppose I just have a limit to how many compliments I can give out in a day.”

You place your chin in your hand. “Oh, really? Then how many do I get to have in a day?”

Adoration fills his ruby orbs. “As many as you want, my beloved.”

His hand reaches for your left over the table. Sylus’s thumb rubs over your fingers, resting atop your ring finger.

“Have I told you that you look exquisite tonight?” he whispers.

“You haven’t,” you reply cheekily. “I think you owe me a few more, don’t you think?”

The soft music in the background dies as you begin to hear your heart thunder in your ears. You do hope that Sylus can’t hear it pounding away like you can.

“Seems like I do,” he says in an exhale, leaning back in his seat but not letting go of your hand. His eyes have changed—once filled with adoration, now filled with a fire that makes heat rise to your cheeks and desire burn between your legs. “I don’t think I’ve shown you the bedroom yet, have I?”

You grin. “You haven’t. I’d like to see it.”

But what you don’t anticipate is your man standing and abruptly lifting you into a one arm carry. Your sharply inhale in surprise, arms immediately weave around his neck for support, but you know he’d never drop you anyway.

You trail your nose under his jaw, pressing a long kiss to his skin by his ear. Your fingers dig into his shoulder, the subtle presser making him hasten his long strides.

“Sweetheart—” Sylus gulps as you press two fingers to his mouth to silence him.

You pepper slow kisses down his neck, nipping at the skin every other kiss. It’s when you reach his collarbone you hear the click of a door. And seconds later you find the plush fabric of blankets underneath you and Sylus’s firm hand cradling the back of your head as he tilts your head back to capture your lips with his.

Between each heated kiss you attempt to catch your breath, only for your lover to devour your mouth with his own again and again.

“Mmmh— Sylus, let me—” another kiss “—catch my breath.”

He has a hard time pulling away. Sylus rests on one knee at the edge of the bed, hands grasping at the back of your bare calves as he catches his own breath and tries to pull himself back to his senses before he finishes himself off early.

While you toss your head back and close your eyes, trying to let oxygen catch up to your brain, Sylus lifts his head to look at you. He drinks in your appearance—the starry night sky sewn into the strapless obsidian dress (one that he had specially made for you) accentuated your body exactly the way he envisioned.

As he watches your breasts rise and fall with every breath, he feels his pants tighten even more. He’s so painfully hard just from simply kissing you—a testament to what you do to him, how deeply you affect him.

He rests his head against the plush of your thigh. As he trails his hand down your leg, he realizes you still have your heels on.

Your head snaps up at the feeling of one heel coming off, then the other.

“Sylus, what— Oh, shit.”

The momentum of him lifting your body further up the bed and hiking your dress up catches you off guard. His mouth latches to your thighs, kissing and biting all the way up until he reaches the fabric of your panties—the only thing between him and what he wants.

“Such a dark red, darling,” he hums. “Was this for me?”

“It might’ve been,” you tease.

As his finger loops around the red fabric covering you, Evol ready to help rip it off, your hand makes its way into his hair and tugs, forcing his eyes to attention.

“Rip these, I’m okay with that. Rip the dress, and I’ll kill you,” you say, half-joking. But damn did you really like this dress.

He chuckles, eyes glazed with lust. “Understood.”

As soon as he tears them away and hikes your dress even further around your hips, Sylus’s mouth does nothing short of devour your pussy. You let out the loudest, wanton moan you’ve ever heard from yourself as his tongue buries itself in and against your folds. Your head falls back against the pillows, hands moving to grip the sheets beneath you to maintain some semblance of being grounded as Sylus eats you out like a starved man. Your legs are over his shoulders, allowing him the best access to your womanhood.

“Oh— Fuuuck, Sylus. Ohmygod, please don’t stop,” you beg, threading one hand through his hair again, grip tighter than earlier.

His reply comes in the form of him pushing his thick middle finger inside of you and mouth sucking on your clit. You wail, bucking your hips into his mouth. His ring finger promptly follows, stretching your cunt and sinking deep inside of your walls. Tears of overstimulation line your eyes as you grasp at then pillow behind your head.

Both hands twine into his silver locks of hair, pressing him deeper into you. What you miss amidst your own haze of ecstasy is Sylus grinding himself against the mattress to find some sense of relief. His mind is at war, wanting nothing more than to cum right then and there versus wanting to watch his seed spill from your hole. It takes every ounce of self-control of his own body to not climax while he simultaneously loses his mind while his mouth is attached to your cunt.

“Don’t— Please— Sylus! Sylus, I’m gonna—”

Your back arches off of the bed, and you can’t help but press him further into you and grind against his face. Sylus’s arms wrap around your thighs, holding you steady. The deep groan of his satisfaction that leaves him only spurs you on further and further and further until your thighs clench around his head and you cum. Hard.

And Sylus more than enjoys sucking and licking away at your release as you climax, prolonging it as much as he can. He lifts your lower body into the air as he continues his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and tongue, the pressure of your thighs on either side of his head making him dizzy. Your essence coats his chin and nose, your scent driving all his senses wild and pulls the remainder of his blood down to his cock.

He gains a free hand as you tighten your legs around his shoulders. He unbuckles his belt and slips it off with practiced ease before moving to unzip and unbutton his pants, tugging away at them.

When your hips stop shaking is when Sylus grabs your thighs with both hands and sets your body back down on the mattress. He hovers over you once again, taking in your disheveled appearance and partially-lidded eyes. His long fingers brush your skin and cradle your jaw.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” he asks.

You pant and gaze up at him. “Barely.” You swallow. “That tongue of yours is brutal.”

Sylus laughs. It’s almost enough to make him forget about the painful fact that his cock is straining against his pants. Until your knee brushes against it when you lift yourself from the bed and he groans.

You giggle as his head presses against your shoulder.

“You really shouldn’t neglect yourself like that,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

Sylus’s lips meet your neck opposite of your arm wrapped around him and presses a long kiss to your sweaty skin, murmuring hotly into your ear, “There’s no one to blame but you, beloved. And I highly suggest you take responsibility.”

You moan and arch into him as his hands work on your dress, unzipping the back entirely and lowering it just below your breasts. You arch your back so he can undo the bra, and as soon as it’s on the floor, his mouth is on your chest. Sylus sucks and bites at your nipples, worshipping them and your breasts as he grinds his clothed erection into your bare pussy, soaking his dress pants in your juices.

You begin unbutton his shirt through the haze of your desire… before you slip your hands through the remaining buttons and fully rip his dress shirt apart, exposing his thick torso. You both chuckle at the sound of the buttons hitting the floor.

“Impatient?”

“Like you aren’t,” you remark.

Sylus shrugs off his shirt in a fluid motion and tosses it to the side from one arm. You manage to slide off your dress within a few moments, just as Sylus manages to get off his pants and briefs and… Oh…

You’d almost forgotten how big he is. Sure, the two of you have spent a couple more… sensual evenings together since you had him use your place as a safe house (and then him bringing you to his), but it always makes you shudder when your eyes land between the apex of his muscular thighs.

His tip weeps with precum, heavy cock red and flushed and—

Sylus’s breath is hot against your ear as he asks, “Like what you see, darling?”

—goddamn it you need it inside of you.

Your nails dig into his bicep, your other hand wrapping around his neck to pull him into a heated kiss, and Sylus is more than happy to oblige. His kiss is deep and reverent. A small moan escapes him as you two briefly pull apart for air before diving back into one another.

Everything is hot; your cheeks are flushed with the heat of desire and your pussy aches to have Sylus buried inside of you.

You pull him down on top of you with the arm around his neck, your other hand grasping his cock and positioning it at your entrance. Sylus hisses, hips bucking slightly as his fingers clench at his attempts at restraint.

“Fuck,” he pants. His red eyes clear for a moment, turning into a gentleness reserved for you as he asks, “You think you can take it?”

“I think you ate me out enough earlier I’ll manage,” you joke. Then your nails dig into the meat of his back, the sensation making him softly hiss again. “But if you don’t I’ll be doing it for you then.”

Sylus chuckles, nose dipping to your collarbone.

“My beloved is always so greedy, isn’t she?”

There is no retort from you—only a loud moan as Sylus’s tip enters you fills the room. He stops after that though, and as you look up to him to ask him why he stopped, you’re stunned at the sight before you.

Sylus is flushed red, panting and sweating as his muscles flex.

“Sylus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, shaking his head. “Give me… a moment. You feel… too good.”

The implication is clear. Sylus’s head falls as he inches himself a little further, delighting in hearing you gasp as he sinks more and more inches of himself inside of you. It takes all he has not to just cum at the feel of you; every ounce of self-control he has is being tested. He’s never been harder in his life, and being inside of the woman he loves—who feels like heaven wrapped around his cock—only proceeds to spiral him into a deeper pit of pleasure.

“Sylus… Sylus, more, please,” you hears you beg.

He’s halfway in, trying to take his time and let the romance of the evening last. But at that, and the sensation of your nails digging into his back, he finds himself a goner and lets his hips fall into yours, sinking the remainder of his fat cock into the depths of your wet pussy. A deep shudder passes through him, bliss running through his body.

“Fuck. Fuck, you feel divine,” Sylus says in a deep exhale.

“You’re so big,” you gasp, eyes clouded with the haze of lust. “Oh, Sy, you feel so good.”

The praise goes to his head immediately. He drags his cock back out slowly and a whine escapes you, hating the emptiness. But when Sylus places your legs over his shoulders and leans over you, it’s over for you both.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as Sylus rolls his hips, sliding his full length back into the warm expanse of your pussy. His head falls back, and the pace he sets proceeds to bury you both alive underneath overwhelming ecstasy.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he pants, clenching his fist into the sheet. “How I feel every time I look at you? Utter perfection is all I see. Do you feel what you do to me, darling?”

All you can feel is Sylus’s weight on top of you and the feel of his heavy cock inside of you as he stretches you open on him, carving your pussy into the shape of his cock. His pelvis rubs against your clit deliciously, spurring you on further. As much as you want to drive your hips up to meet his thrusts, Sylus has you pinned down into a mating press and all you can do is take what he’s giving you.

The papping noises of your bodies meeting filled the room, sending your thoughts into an even dirtier place. He feels so good reaching so deep inside of you, tip rubbing against that special spot perfectly, like you’re made to be perfect for each other. You clench around Sylus at another thought and he inhales sharply.

“What’re you thinking about?” he questions.

You shake your head. “N-Nothing.”

His long fingers grab your jaw gently. “Tell me.”

And then he slows his pace. “No, Sylus—”

“Then tell me what my beloved is thinking in that pretty head of hers,” he murmurs into your ear. “Or else.”

“I was thinking… about… Uhm…” Sylus rolls his hips back into you, his heavy balls pressing against your ass as he awaits your answer.

“Well?”

“I, uh— A baby.”

At the word, you shy away into your arm. But Sylus doesn’t say anything, which makes you confused. After a couple seconds, you gaze back up at him. His eyes show how stunned he is, pupils blown as no doubt the word also revolves around his own mind.

“Sylus, I— Oh, fuucckk.”

His body weight presses your body into the mattress further, leaving you at his mercy as Sylus’s pace becomes brutal, like he’s let his base instincts take over. His big hand finds yours and twines your fingers together as he drives his cock into your pussy over and over and over again, the squelching noises only growing louder and louder in your ears.

“My kitten… wants a baby then?” He hums into your ear. “She wants me to cum inside of her and carry my baby, is that right?”

“It was… just a thought.”

He laughs as your pussy clenches around him more at his words.

“Seems like it’s more than just a thought.”

Sylus’s mouth meets yours in another kiss, powered by something more than just lust. Your brain turns fuzzy and hot, reality beginning to finally blur as another climax ascends from the depths of your core.

Your eyes shut as his mouth finds the sweet spot on your neck. He sucks and nips at the skin with his teeth and you’ve no doubt that there’ll be plenty of love bites scattered across your skin for days after tonight.

When he nips at your ear, you squeak and clench around him again. Sylus groans into your ear, “Do that again.”

You oblige, clenching down on him and making him piston himself in and out of you faster. Every thrust turns into one that pushes the air from your lungs. All you can see, all you can feel is Sylus—feel his body heat as he presses your body down with his; feel the thickness of his cock stretch you open and the weight of his balls as they slap against your ass.

And it feels so good. The shlick and pap noises are getting to you. The coil that’s been winding up all night finally feels like it’s about to burst. Your back arches off the bed, breasts pressing into Sylus’s firm chest.

“Ohmygod, Sy, gonna cum, gonna cum fuckfuckfuuucckkk!”

He nips at your earlobe, biting down on it gently before whispering into your ear, “Indulge, my love. Indulge and I’ll fulfill every single one of your desires tonight.”

At long last, the coil snaps. Euphoria pilots itself to your brain and all across your body. You shake from the intensity, having to wrap your arms around Sylus to ground yourself as you reach your high.

Your orgasm sends him over the edge. He thrusts a few more times before he finds himself pressing himself as deep as he can possibly go and releasing his seed inside of your pussy. It’s almost too much, even for him. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum harder than tonight.

Your bodies rock together as you both fall from the heights of cloud nine. Sylus peppers your sweaty skin with kisses, across the bruised love bites he’d left earlier.

It’s only when he feels himself soft enough to slip out of you does he ask, “A family?”

Sylus’s voice is soft. So soft in fact that you barely hear him. You take a moment to reply, only to find yourself being easily lifted from the bed and onto Sylus’s chest.

“It’s… Something that’s crossed my mind a few times,” you admit bashfully.

Silence fills the air for a moment before he asks again, in the same, quiet tone he’d just used.

“With me?”

Your smile stretches across your face instantly. Your lips meet his chest, right over his heart. Your eyes meet his—uncertainty meeting unconditional love.

“And no one else.”

The next three days after are filled with you and Sylus partaking in all the activities that his yacht has to offer (plus more intimate times across the boat and it’s other rooms). He’d told you at one point that he would’ve just used the one he sails on regularly. But due to him wanting to spend more time with you than anything, and for you to have fun during the trip, he’d bought another and hired the captain to ensure safe passage.

Tonight however, was the night that you both were supposed to be arriving at your destination. You tried to help the anxiety and giddiness inside of you, trying to flatten it under a cool demeanor but Sylus just saw right through you.

Of course he would.

“There’s no reason to be nervous. It’s not like I’m taking you into enemy territory,” he jokes, gaze flicking to you from the stars in the open sky.

“I know that. I just can’t help it,” you mutter.

You shiver from the cold breeze, and Sylus shrugs off his leather jacket and places it over your shoulders. He leans down and zips it partway, resting his chin atop your head.

“Those hunter instincts of yours need to settle down,” he hums.

“I wish they would— Sylus!”

A hearty chuckle leaves him as you bounce away from his hold. Your eyes narrow at his treachery.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Don’t you try and tickle me,” you warn playfully. You slip your arms through the sleeves of his leather jacket, trying to pull the sleeves back from over your palms to point at him. “Or I’m gonna tickle you back.”

Sylus smirks and rubs his fingers together. “Is that a challenge?”

“Mr. Sylus, Mrs. Sylus,” greets a familiar voice.

Embarrassment makes you duck your head away from the captain for a brief moment before you look at him.

“Just thought I’d come and let you know we’ll be docking soon.” The captain takes his hat off and bows before you both. “Thank you for allowing me the chance to sail you both for the last three days.”

Sylus nods his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you for giving us safe passage, Arthur.”

Arthur nods, reapplies his cap and heads back to steer the ship into the upcoming port.

You don’t get to watch as he disappears since Sylus wraps his arms around you, pulling your chin to his chest. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple and murmurs, “I do believe we’re here.”

The distraction of the captain was long enough that the scenery before you had changed into the moonlit sea into a large landmass illuminated by the full moon above.

Your jaw drops open at the sight, eyes lighting up as you get closer and closer to the port where the ship would dock.

“Sylus, where are we?” you ask quietly.

“It’s an island,” he states. “One that I bought awhile back and was making… renovations for.”

“Renovations? For what?”

He laughs softly and looks at you like you’re a goddess. “For whom, you mean.”

Your eyes widen into saucers. Is he…? Could he seriously mean…?

“Sylus, you bought me an island?” you inquire, utterly flabbergasted.

“I can’t exactly un-buy it, so I do hope you’ll like it,” he replies. To your ears and yours alone you can hear his wavering tone, like he’s awaiting your disappointment. You can’t have that.

You cup his cheeks and force him to look at you again.

“Sylus, I love it; even if it’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever been gifted, I love it. It’s just going to take me time to get used to it,” you tell him. Then you step on your tippy-toes and give him an eskimo kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

You kiss him there at the front of the ship, wrapped in his warm, protective embrace, momentarily oblivious to the world and your surroundings.

What you’re also oblivious to, and have been since the start of the trip, is the fat diamond ring that’s been tucked away, hidden in Sylus’s bottom drawer to his dresser. And also to the fact of his other reason of being nervous.

To him hoping that you’ll say “yes” when he gets down on one knee to ask you to marry him.

But he’ll save that for later. Right now he intends to indulge and savor your lips on his and you being tucked into him, safe from the world to be loved and worshipped by him.

And hopefully, for the rest of this lifetime.

#༄ kasswrites.#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus smut #sylus x y/n #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #sylus love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader

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tender-rosiey · 8 months ago

Text

from me to you — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: this takes place in chapter 268, soo sort of spoilers ahead? also long live gojo satoru; gojo leaves you a letter 🙏

“y/n-sensei, there is a letter for you as well!”

that catches your attention, and you look up at the first years. you tilt your head slightly, and yuuji hands you an envelope.

you gently take it from him, and the first thing you notice is “wifey” written on it then the doodle of satoru with his blindfold on. you feel your throat tighten, and your hands shake slightly.

you let out a small breath then shakily open the letter.

hey, honey!!

it first reads.

I feel like there is still much I didn’t tell you in our last meeting, so here I, your beautiful and handsome husband, am writing them down.

you swallow lightly, and a small smile appears on your face as you imagine satoru saying that, then you continue to the next line.

first, I changed all your computer passwords to variations of “satoruisthebest” at one point. your confusion was so cute!!

you quirk an eyebrow at the admission, but when you rack your brain, you remember that one day when you couldn’t log into your computer.

what you vividly remember was satoru being sat beside you the whole time, and now that you think about it. he was smiling so widely the entire time, letting out small chuckles every now and then. oh, that sneaky man.

“satoru, I am telling you it’s broken!”

“sweetheart, we spent over 2000$ on that. if it broke, then we could easily sue the company,” he chuckled, arm wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer.

“2 year guaranteed top performance my ass!”

you smile at the memory. it was pretty satoru of him to do that. your eyes then move to continue reading.

second, there are times when I would tell megumi that you would be coming with me, then he would turn and leave me when he found out I was tricking him.

your eyes glance up at said boy who is sat across of you. he made it out alive, despite everything. he suffered so much, but he made it.

it makes you relieved, and you can imagine satoru being bloody proud of him and saying something along the lines of ‘you handed sukuna’s ass to him, very cool!’

no matter how much megumi had frowned and grimaced at satoru’s presence or antics. it rooted itself as something—safe and familiar.

you can’t count on your hands the times when you and satoru would visit the siblings, and nobody really said it, but these meetings did all of you a favor, a chance to kind of wind down. maybe act like death might actually not be looming tomorrow.

it feels like just yesterday when megumi would cling to you when he got really sad or nervous, after so much time spent getting comfortable with each other.

he grew up well, you think, eyes gliding to next.

third, I hid your uniform every two to three weeks, so you have to stay with me.

at that, your eyes widen a bit. satoru’s schedule was pretty packed, but he somehow managed to squeeze time for quality time between you two.

it tugged on your heartstrings, and you made sure he knew how much you appreciated it, not a single space on his face left without a kiss. however, finding out that he went out of his way to make you rest and stay.

satoru’s care really showed in his actions, and you feel like this is the biggest proof of it.

“satoru, have you seen my uniform?”

“nope! maybe, it is a sign to stay home today? you’ve been working so hard, wifey!”

you cupped his face, pulled him down to your height, and kisses his cheek, “you’ve been working harder, ‘toru. let me take off some of the load at least.”

“we could both stay!”

“you’re kidding, right?”

“I already told yaga; I miss you!”

you try to stop the reminiscing further and try to compose yourself before reading the rest.

fourth, I’m the one who kept adjusting the thermostat. I just wanted an excuse to cuddle.

a fond yet melancholy smile appears on your face. you kinda figured that one out. satoru’s favorite pastime was cuddling, so it’s no surprise that he would go out of his way to create the need for it even further.

add to that, once you went to get some green tea and saw him from the corner of your eye teleport to the thermostat, click something, then teleport back to bed.

you figured that the room being chilly that night was not an exception in the middle of july.

“babeeee, it’s so cold! let’s cuddle!”

“maybe the problem is with the thermostat?”

“I checked! I think cuddling is the best solution.”

you giggle as you recall the moment, one of many similar. your heart feels a bit lighter as you go through the letter. something satoru managed to always do even in person.

he would plaster sticky notes, get you trinkets, and even pull pranks on other just to see you smile. feeling more encouraged, you keep on reading the letter.

then you feel your chest constrict so tightly that you might just throw up.

fifth, I am really gonna fucking miss you.

you read the line over again, and you purse your lip in hopes of silencing any noise that may come out as you feel the lump in your throat return, even worse than before. your breathing starts getting more difficult.

your grip on the letter tightens, and you find yourself thinking back to the good times. memories of late nights spent in each other’s arms, thinking about everything and nothing at once.

hushed whispers of confessions and quiet giggles as you reminisced on your highschool days. tight hugs when recalling the sad moments and the departure of a certain someone.

“you know, y/n, I think we might just be made for each other,” he said one night. you hummed and looked him in the eyes.

“three am thoughts?”

“three am admissions,” he grins slightly, “I am made for you, and you’re made for me.”

you remember him pulling you closer and kissing your forehead, while you teased, “and what would you need little old me for, so much that I got made?”

he feigns thinking then closes his eyes, burying his face in your shoulder, “grounding me.”

I love you. I really do, but you should know that already, right?

your eyes drift down to the corner of the paper, and that is when you feel your tears start free-falling. there is drawn a chibi satoru besides a chibi you and between them is a heart.

the chibi satoru is giving yours a big smooch, while she laughs. you never thought that the day your jealousy burns would be because of drawings, and drawings of you and your own husband, nonetheless.

“but wow, gojo-sensei is shit at writing letters,” you hear nobara remark.

megumi responds with a small chuckle, “I am fine with mine.”

“what about you, y/n-sensei?—”

the trio becomes silent as you let out a sob. a watery smile makes its way up your face as you kiss the letter gently and murmur, “so shitty.”

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disneyprincemuke · 15 days ago

Text

randomantic * op81

it's just oscar being randomly romantic, because that's the type of person you make him

pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

notes: noelle don't write an oscar fic that's not entirely filled with silliness and nonsense fluff challenge

(f1 masterlist)

you close your eyes and suck in a deep breath. you stand at your front door, having just inserted your key into it. you let out a shaky breath as you stare down at the door knob.

you’ve just had what felt like the longest day in a while. it feels like nothing has gone right for you at all — it’s so overwhelmingly irritating. you just know that the smallest thing will set you off and on the other side of this door is the most loving and doting man you’ve ever met in your life.

a man who doesn’t seem to have had a bad day in years, always donning a wide smile on his face with a composure you could only wish you had. you don’t want him to be the scapegoat that gets the brunt of your bad day.

you compose yourself with one last deep breath before unlocking the door. you try to sport a small grin as you push the door open. “i’m home.”

oscar’s grin meets you right at the kitchen door, leaning against the door frame as he wipes his hand on a towel. “i was wondering when you would come inside — i heard you fumbling with your keys a few minutes ago.”

“oh,” you try to laugh it off as you kick your shoes off and walk over to him, “i was trying to recall if i’d forgotten something at work.”

which, now that you think of it, is very possible. did your water bottle ever make it into your bag before you left the office?

“you’re back there in a couple of days,” oscar mutters, arms spread wide as you walk further into your apartment, “if not, i’ll go over and pick it up for you.”

he wraps you into a tight and firm hug, making you feel relieve, even if it was just a little. he grabs either side of your cheek and mushes his lips onto yours. “i made us dinner.”

you hum and furrow your brows as he takes your hand to lead you in. “what? but it’s my turn to make dinner.”

oscar shrugs with a small smile. he looks over his shoulder and gives you a quick wink. “i was feeling inspired.”

you almost burst into tears when the dining table comes into view — two plates with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers on the clean table. you’d been wrecking your brain for dinner options tonight. you’d considered ordering in, but it’s oscar’s crunch time right before the season so he has to watch his diet.

“do you like it?” oscar beams, puffing his chest proudly. he grabs the bouquet and reaches out to you. “and some flowers — we can’t have a date without that.”

“i love it, oscar,” you smile, reeling him in to press a kiss on his lips. “thank you so much.”

you wake up alone in your bed. oscar had an early morning, heading into a busy day.

you briefly remember sitting up for 5 seconds, long enough for him to give you a quick kiss and a tight hug before bidding you goodbye. though you wish you’d have woken up slightly earlier or stayed awake for longer to be with him.

you feel a sense of dread at the empty day ahead of you, working from home in an empty house is daunting for the week you’re having. you can almost tell how much you wouldn’t get done at all with the pit in your stomach and the numbness at your fingertips.

you wanted to send him a text, asking him to take the day off and come home to be with you. but you refuse to be that person.

you can’t simply ask your busy boyfriend to drop his obligations just to spend time with you because you’re a little under the weather. it’s not always about you.

sighing, you turn over to face oscar’s side of the bed. you pull the blankets around your body a little tighter.

you flinch at the stuffed bunny sitting upright, probably put there by oscar before leaving, with a bright orange post-it loosely stuck to its paw.

‘good morning, my love :)’

you smile. these little post-it’s are rare to find during this off-season, but they are always appreciated wherever they are.

the good morning note, however, is a first. oscar’s made a habit of leaving a few as reminders for you for days that he has to separate from you at the crack of dawn. they are often sweet, usually just reminders, but always in such a loving manner. how he manages to make simple post-it reminders sound so thoughtful, you’ll never know.

when you make it to the kitchen, there’s another stuck to the door of the fridge.

‘left some documents behind and had to u-turn. i got you breakfast on my drive back <3 fridge, second shelf’

you open the fridge and sure enough, there’s a sandwich with a cup of iced coffee sitting pretty on the second shelf. there’s another post-it.

‘eat well, pretty’

you proceed to eat breakfast with the biggest grin on your face.

oscar walks into the room, in the midst of dressing up for his busy day. you’re sitting by the edge of the bed, slouched as you type away on your phone. probably answering some emails before you head right back to sleep.

he grins to himself and creeps across the bed over to you. when he realises you hadn’t acknowledged his presence, he softly hums and gently presses his lips on your bare shoulder. his other arm is slung over your stomach as he pulls you in.

“what’s got my girl so busy this morning?” he hums against your skin, reluctantly pulling you back down to lie with him in bed. “it’s too early for you to be up.”

you groan and throw your head back, throwing your arms back. “answering a silly important email that was sent at 3am.”

“ridiculous,” he mutters. he tightens his arms around you and sigh. “i wish i could lay in bed with you all day. i’ll miss you today.”

“i’ll miss you too. i hate working from home when you’re not around.” you wiggle in his arms to face him, grabbing the sides of his face. “i should shrink myself so you could put me in your little pocket.”

he laughs at the absurdity of your idea. though, he doesn’t entirely hate it. he leans forward and nudges your nose with his. “i told you: quit your job. follow me around all day — i promise i’ll treat you like a princess.”

oscar jokes about this often: getting you to quit your job so you could simply be by his side all the time. while it sounded fun and relaxing, it simply is never as easy as just quitting and being his fulltime wag that watched him in the garage every weekend.

it’s just not a life that sounds like it would be for you at all.

“don’t be silly,” you whisper. you nuzzle your face into his shoulder with a soft sigh. “i can’t just do that.”

“ah, i know.” he squeezes your hips, thinking of a way he could somehow manipulate his day into ending earlier. perhaps there’s something he could forgo so he can come home earlier to you? maybe he’ll skip the gym and go tomorrow instead. “you know what?”

you hum, “what?”

“let’s go for a fancy dinner outside tonight,” oscar giggles. “i’ll call in for a reservation, okay? just show up and i’ll take care of the rest.”

you raise an eyebrow. it’s not that you don’t often go on dates with oscar in a week. in fact, you would love to argue that you and oscar go on more dates than an average couple does.

this week just feels different. perhaps you’re just having a worse week than usual. you start to wonder if he can tell that you’re having a hard week.

“are you sure? aren’t you busy?”

“never for you,” oscar smiles. “so, i’ll pick you up at 7, okay?”

not a lot of people could have guessed that oscar is one of the biggest perpetrators of hogging a karaoke mic.

your week has finally ended, and oscar has dragged you along to a small outing with his group of friends for a quick hang out before the season starts. you don’t even remember who suggest the thought of renting a room to do some karaoke; could have been fred, or maybe even oscar himself.

“oh, man,” logan throws his arms into the air when a familiar beat comes on. he holds his head in his hands in defeat. “who let him have the mic?”

“i swear i didn’t let him queue this many songs!” fred defends himself with a soft cry, pointing at the central machine in front of him. “they’re all love songs too!”

his friends’ groans echo in the room as oscar picks up the mic proudly. he puts his cocktail down on the table in the centre of the room before he turns over to you, sly smile and the mic pointed over at you. “this one’s for my beautiful girlfriend.”

logan scowls. “gross.”

“shut the fuck up,” oscar mutters, before walking over to you. he holds a hand out to you and grins. “don’t mind them, they’ve just never been loved the way you love me. get up, you’re the lucky girl i get to serenade for the rest of our lives.”

fred scoffs, a hand over his chest. “okay, ouch.”

@foreveralbon

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1

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sierrale8ne · 2 months ago

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celibacy / paige bueckers x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ it’s been four months and two weeks and 36 hours and eight minutes since you been pleased ’

summary after finding out you ended your sexual arrangement with paige for work purposes, she takes it upon herself to show you how much she’s been missing you and how badly she’s been needing you. warnings paige is a hornball that can’t comprehend why you’d want to obtain from having sex, sexual content, packing, strap-on sex, strap-sucking, spitting, literal cum eating like… p is a freak. from lena i felt like bringing back some old pairings so this is p x that reporter i wrote about a minute ago ( in my main masterlist titled easy access ) this is nasty, i’m ovulating so there’s that.

Paige had been accustomed to the life that came with being a star athlete: wake up, practice, treatment, class, nap, lift, and if all of that was completed, the occasional media interview.

Today was one of those days.

Her practice jersey is damp against her body, the navy blue compression shirt underneath clinging to her arms as she answers question after question. Tournament seeding, last year, the draft next month. All of it is the same, just enough for her to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

She stands patiently, arms crossed over her chest as she waits for the next question. And then it comes.

“Paige, is there any advice you’ve given your teammates— specifically Sarah and Jana— about how to handle the tournament now that they’re in it?”

Paige freezes.

It’s your voice, she’s known it well enough to be able to point it out in a crowd full of all other reporters. A voice she’s heard so many times that it became burnt into her brain— every tone, every shift.

You dig your way through to the front, and when Paige sees you— like really sees you for the first time in months— it’s the first time all day that her demeanor shifted. She’s always loved your work attire and how you prided yourself in looking your best. But today you’ve dressed down and she still thinks you look perfect. Low rise washed denim, New Balance sneakers on your feet, and a white shirt with some writing on the left shoulder that she can’t quite make out.

“I’m sorry, can you ask that again? I zoned out for a minute.” Paige clears her throat. The other reporters laugh but you stay focused, it your first media availability with Paige. You knew better than to crack, especially now. So you repeat the question, poised as ever and honestly Paige is a little shocked. She thought if anything you’d be just as off your game as she was. But you weren’t.

She stutters, and it’s so small that you almost miss it, but she answers anyways. “Just to embrace the moment. Pressure is a privilege, and they came here to preform on the biggest stage—” Her eyes bore into your own, blue like large pools of cerulean. The same eyes that once made you give up everything, toss away your morals, and submit to her. “— and we all got total confidence in them. Hopefully that translates to them having total confidence in themselves.”

You nod, thinking about how generic her answer was and how your boss would probably have something to say back at the office. It seemed like she always did, but that’s what came with being an intern, you’ve learned.

Media availability ends, and you are very glad that Paige was the last to be interviewed because you can’t wait to get away from her fucking gaze. You cut the recording on your phone, shoving it in the back pocket of your jeans, followed by sticking your notepad and pen in your purse.

You follow suit with everyone else, turning towards the practice facility’s exit doors to head back to the office. Until your stopped, a hand to your lower back that send a rush to your core.

You’re reminded of the first time. The way you danced against her at Ted’s her hand on your back, bending you over as you twerked her jeans, the feeling of the zipper against your ass. How she took you home, made your legs shake and your toes curl, just to become even more vulnerable with you in bed hours later. You learned a lot about Paige that night.

You learned even more about yourself.

That no matter what, as long as she was around you’d never be able to resist her.

It’s exactly why you turn towards face her right now, you hands cautiously gripping your purse and the other raking through your hair.

“Look who finally came to see me.” Paige’s nails rake along your skin, dangerously drawing you closer and closer to her.

You feel your knees getting weak already. She smells surprisingly good considering she just got out of practice, she looks even better. But you can’t. “Stop.” You groan, reaching back to brush her hand off.

“I’m just checkin’ on you, you good? It’s been a while.” Paige says, her voice sultry and a bit cheeky. She’s priding herself on the fact that she still has you like this.

“Paige, we’re not doing this here. I’m at work.” It reminds you of what you said the last time you had her. MSG in New York, another day you were supposed to be focused on work that ended up with Paige’s hand in your pants.

She nods, pretending to understand but the look on her face lets you know she’s thinking about anything but. “Okay, then come over later.”

The blonde had a way of making you go speechless every time you saw her, but right now you were literally at a loss for words. You made it clear when you cut her off— Paige was a distraction— so for her to stand here, so hellbent on getting you alone, in a way she once had you, was ridiculous.

You scoff, looking around at the now filing out hallway. You drag her off, fingers digging into the bicep that’s so fucking big you nearly are taken aback by it. “I’m not having sex with you, P. It’s done, you know that.”

“You’re tellin’ me whoever else you’re sleeping with makes it feel as good as me? Y’know that’s bullshit, ma.” She goes on, and you take a step back for your own sanity. A response bats around in your brain, you shouldn’t tell her the truth, she would get too confident. Too cocky. You didn’t need that.

It came out anyway, like word vomit. “I’m fucking celibate, Paige, there isn’t anyone else.” You grit through your teeth.

Paige’s eyes nearly glow and her mouth curls up into his God awful smirk that you’d want to slap off if she wasn’t so damn sexy. “You? You’re playin’.”

“I’m not. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to finish.” You mutter, walking across the hallway to the elevators plans sweating as you do what you know best. Work.

Your night ends with a much needed bath, soaking in the hot tub to soothe yourself of all the stress piled up throughout the day.

And the tension that only Paige Bueckers could give you.

She was good, you had to give her that. And what made it worse was that it was effortless. Paige didn’t have to say too much, or even touch you. All she needed was one moment, one instance where your demeanor shifts and your strength cracks and all of a sudden you’re her’s again.

You couldn’t shake your mind of her even if you tried.

And it made your core fucking throb.

When you finally do exit the bath— legs a bit sore from the attention you had given yourself between your legs— you cater to yourself. Legs smooth, and body smelling of sweet vanilla cashmere. You throw on some cute pajamas, matching silk with a top that fits you loosely. The plan is to get in bed, until you hear a knock at the door.

You trail to the door, manicured feet padding against the hardwood.

And then you open it.

And there she is.

At first, it’s like your mind is playing tricks on you. Because it’s been forever, and no one in their right mind would show up to their old fuck buddy’s apartment at this hour. Paige seems to be the exception.

She wears these dark grey Essentials sweatpants, slightly dirty and scuffed on the hems. They sag just enough for you to see a small edge of her Nike Pro’s when she lifts her arm over her head and her fingers run through her hair. Her hoodie matches, and that makes your knees buckle. The dark fabric makes her skin and hair look even brighter.

“Why are you here?” You sigh before she even gets a chance to speak. Being mean about it seems to be the only way you can think of to get her out. It’s for your own sanity anyway. You’ve never been able to rid her off for as long as you and Paige have known each other.

Obviously, you don’t know Paige.

Because she finds that so fucking attractive.

Paige bites her lip, trailing her eyes to your shoulder where the strap of your shirt has fallen. “I’m still on this celibacy thing. Like, are you sure? And why the hell would you want to do that?”

You have to laugh, because it’s hysterical that your vow to stay away from sex had UConn’s star player unable to think straight.

“Paige, I—”

“Seriously, we’re not having sex anymore because of what? Did I do something wrong? Am not doin’ it right, you gotta tell me.” Paige is babbling, and it makes you so embarrassed that you tug her inside the apartment before your neighbors can hear about it.

It’s unfathomable to you. “I didn’t think it was that hard for you to find someone else to sleep with, Paige.”

“It’s not! But you cut me off, and the first time I see you again you’re talkin’ bout some celibate. So, naturally I’m curious.” Paige attempts to explain, hands moving freely in the air as she talks and you stare at them the entire time. Her knuckles slightly red from the cold, veins adorning the back of her hand, and her long ass fingers. It was a taunt. As soon as you made it clear that you weren’t going, here she was. Testing you.

You take a step back, as if the distance would give you a clear head. “You’re a distraction.”

“What?”

“A distraction.” You speak up. “I can’t do my job with you texting me and telling me all the ways you want me in bed. I literally couldn’t focus.” You explain, and now that it’s said out loud you feel ridiculous.

Paige Bueckers was so good at fucking you, that it made it hard for you to do your job.

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, dropping her arms down on your counter and leaning against it.

“You happy now?” You respond, sighing loudly.

“Ma—”

“No.” You cut her off quick. This is exactly how it went last time. And this time you had half a mind to know better.

“Let me get you there, baby. No distractions this time, I swear.” She murmurs, voice low and almost strained— hours of practice for the tournament to blame. “No way you don’t want it, ma, just please.”

Paige is walking towards you now, hands reaching for your hips and you let her. You actually don’t even think about moving. You can smell her cologne, warm and woodsy, sticking to the fabric of her clothes. Her hands trail off you to the hem of her hoodie, pulling it up and over her head.

Your eyes trail to the ground it falls on almost immediately, because Paige’s choice of a thin tank top and no bra leaves very little to your imagination.

“What do you want, ma?”

A whimper flies from your lips as her hand grips your chin, fixing you to look at her. Your hand grips her shirt for leverage, clinging to what’s left of your morals.

That’s when she knows she has you exactly where she wants you.

“Hmm? What do you want?” Paige repeats, dragging your hand down her abdomen until it rests at her sweatpants. And you feel it. Her sweats were baggy enough to conceal it, but as soon as you feel the length in your palm it’s clear that Paige was thinking about you the same way you were thinking about her in the bath. “You want it? ‘Cause y’know I’m always ready to give it to you.”

“I want it.” You whine, snaking a hand up to her neck, tugging her close to you.

Her breath fans your lips, a smile gracing her face that doesn’t even try to hide. “Yeah? Break this li’l streak you got goin on?” Her hand tugs your shirt strap lower down your arm, and the second it’s reached the furthest it could go you’re slotting your lips with hers.

She tastes like everything you’ve remembered her to be, minty but still sweet. Her lips are soft, vaseline smeared on them and transferring to your chin. You continue palming the strap through her sweats, and Paige groans like it’s an extension of herself.

“Want you.” You moan.

“I know. I got it, baby. I gotchu.”

Paige’s strap sits on your tongue as you greet it with tiny kitten licks. You should’ve known that Paige would’ve made your work for it after leaving her to dry for months. Which truly wasn’t your intention. Paige was attractive, women wanted her, and you expected her to get it elsewhere.

Obviously not.

Her back is flush to your couch, shirt hiked up to give you a view of her hardened nipples and perfect fucking abs. You grip the base, spit trailing down the length that you take into your mouth.

“Mhmm, put that fuckin’ mouth to work, baby. Lookin’ so sexy f’me.” She hums, pushing your still slightly damp hair out of your face.

You plant your hands to her thighs, taking the strap deeper just to prove that you can. A part of you thinks you enjoy showing out for Paige like this again, doing what she wanted when she wanted.

Her eyes flutter shut like she can feel your mouth, the warmth of your tongue running on the underside of her cock— and if she closes her eyes hard enough, she probably could. But the vibration is good enough.

“Four months. Four and a half fuckin’ months.” Paige says to herself between breaths.

You pull back to breathe, saliva connecting your lip to the tip. You’re completely mesmerized by her, you vulnerable she looks even when you’re the one on your knees with her cock in your mouth. You spit on it again, sucking it back into your mouth before taking the strap in again. You’re sure that Paige’s eyes roll into her head.

“You’re fuckin’ crazy.” She grunts, hips moving forward further towards you. “Gonna paint your face, I swear.”

Paige’s words send a throb to your cunt. You can almost picture it— her groans and slack jaw as she comes. You draw your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit that’s still covered by your pj’s. The stimulation makes you whine.

“That shit turns you on, ma? Just know you’re so fuckin’ wet.” Paige hums to herself. She decides to reach for your hair, tugging you up and off of her strap until you’re hovering over her.

Saliva dangles from your lip, and in her obvious lust, Paige sticks her tongue out. You’re left speechless. Paige was a freak, you knew that much, but she’s chasing after your fucking spit like she’s thirsty for it. Like she was dying in the desert and you were the only one to solve her thirst.

She almost slurps it up, the noise so vulgar that you moan in her face. Paige chases after your mouth, locking lips with you in a deep kiss. Your hips grind against the strap, paying no mind to the mess it’s going to create on your shorts.

“Need it inside me, P.” You plead.

“Celibate my fucking ass.” She groans against you, using her strength to push you to the other end of the couch. Her hands dig into your hips, clawing at your shorts so hard that you’re sure she’s going to rip them off of you.

You’ve never seen Paige like this, this needy, this horny. She dragged your mouth onto her cock with a fervor that was animalistic. Then now, her teeth nipping at your own lips so hard she might draw blood.

It’s hot.

It makes you upset that you held out on her for this long.

Paige’s hands slip to your shoulders, pushing the other strap down your arm and putting your tits on display for her. She breaks the kiss, lips trailing down your jaw, neck, and chest before finally reaching your nipple.

“Paige!” You moan, head thrown back in ecstasy as she pulls your shorts off next.

“No crotchless this time?” She jokes, making you think back to the last time she fucked you stupid. It gets her off, watching how desperate you are for her to make you come.

“I need you to fuck me,” You whine desperately, hand fisting a handful of Paige’s perfect blonde hair. “Please,” you beg. Your hips grind against the unbelievably long strap, almost as if they had a mind of their own.

“I like it when you beg.”

“I know.” You tug your black panties to the side. Paige smirks at how soaked you are, the way your slick drips through your folds. “Want your cock, P. Please.”

With your help in spreading your legs Paige is tapping the tip against you. The wetness of your pussy filling her ears like the sound of music. Your mouth falls agape at the sudden pressure. and she takes the opportunity to fill your mouth with her own spit. A fat glob falling on your tongue and you swallow it almost immediately.

“Tell me you want it again.”

You sob, body aching in need. “I want it, I want it, Paige.”

Without hesitation, the athlete thrusts forward, burying all eight inches balls deep inside you. It’s so foreign, months of being away from her to blame. A collective gasp escapes both of your mouths. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head while her mouth formed the perfect ‘O’. Paige eyes you like a piece of meat before connecting your lips again in a heated frenzy. Your back arched into Paige’s as she gripped your hips and began roughly pounding into your cunt.

“You hear her? Just screamin’ for this dick, baby.” Paige hums, her words sending a rush of more arousal out of you. A mixture of pleasure and ecstasy spread across your features as Paige established a fast and relentless pace. “You’re so fuckin’ easy.”

“Baby—”

She breaks the kiss. “Imma distraction, but you can’t get off without me. Can’t make this pussy cum the way I do.” The couch practically groans in protest, its durability tested as Paige’s grunts reverberated against your lips. The room filled with the intoxicating sound of your bodies colliding, skin slapping together in a sensual symphony that echoed off the walls.

You watch Paige tuck her shirt in her mouth, giving her a perfect view of not only where she digs you out, but your tits that bounce in her face.

She’s fucking the shit out of you. And that alone is enough to draw her close to that climax.

“Y-you— Paige, baby. You’re fuckin’ deep, fuckkkk!” Your eyes were tightly shut, face contorted in pure bliss as you cling to the blonde with every fiber of your being. Your legs wrapped around Paige’s thighs, ensuring that she couldn’t escape your embrace. “F-fuck! P!” You cry out.

“Fuck you stupid, yeah? Put yo’ ass to sleep. Make it feel so fucking good, huh?” She roughly pushed the fabric of your shirt over your head. The fabric slipped away, leaving you fully exposed. “Cover me in it, cum on me, ma.”

You want her closer, deeper, anything. So you wrap your arms around her neck, tugging the blonde so close that your forehead touches hers. She keeps thrusting, seemingly noticing that you needed more.

“I know you’re close.” You murmur, trying your hardest to keep your eyes focused on her. “Paige, oh my Goddddd—”

“Y—shit.” Paige’s legs tremble, and you notice the slight falter in her rhythm. “Fuck, you first.” She lets out a groan, followed by a chase of your lips. It’s soft, way softer than how she fucks you.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming— I’m gonna cum, baby.” You babble over and over, your resolve fleeting your body as your orgasm creeps up on you. Paige lets out a high pitched gasp, her face flushed with overwhelming pleasure.

She tried to hold back, to maintain her composure, but failed miserably. A moan of pure bliss escaped her lips as she thrusts once more, practically balls deep into you as she comes. You let out a moan yourself as you feel the warmth taking over your body.

Paige doesn’t pull out, only pulling back enough to swipe her fingers over the ring of come that you’ve left behind. She brings her fingertips to her mouth, riding them out your taste.

“You left me out to fucking dry for four damn months?” Paige asks, her breathing labored from the exertion. She brings her hand down to your cunt, clit completely swollen. Almost desperate. “Left me without this shit for too long, ma.” She mumbles around her hand yet again.

She’s cleaning you up with her fingers, every bit of your release finding her tongue in almost desperate sweeps. You whine at the sensitivity, but let her.

Because it’s Paige, and you can’t fucking resist.

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javierpena-inatacvest · 3 months ago

Text

Ride

Summary: Javi's a ride you can't resist (aka, it's more PWP LMAO)

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: It's all porn again, sorry- Javi's POV, unprotected p in v (pls do not do, but who am I to say), oral (m receiving), Javi is down BAD for you bouncin' on that thang, idk y'all, make men yearn insatiably 2025 is the motto for the year, I don't make the rules

A/N: Hey, remember when I said I was gonna write this and then didn't? Guess who finally finished this thing 🤠 Shout out to @yxtkiwiyxt for gracing my brain with this idea, and to @gothcsz for being insane about it with me!!! @jolapeno I'm dragging you into this, too heheheh y'all, it seems like it's 24/7 horny hours over here, so apologies about being insufferable for This Man™️ enjoy, before someone eventually (and inevitably) calls animal control on me!! (we're also considering this piece a research project, fellow pillow princesses rise up LMAOOOOOOO)

He doesn’t notice the way the corner of his lip has been turned upward since he left your apartment. The strain in his cheek muscles are the last part of his body he’s concerned about.

It takes everything in him to pretend like he’s did have to waddle to his desk through the office this morning. While there’s a part of him that curses the fact he can’t handle himself the way he used to as a younger man, he’d be lying out of his goddamn teeth if he said that he’d never been happier to be this sore.

And he’s only got you to blame.

It’s safe to say his work efficiency is absolutely fucked today. The only thing he has the mental capacity for is the image of you, straddled across his hips, riding him until he was half way convinced he’d never walk again.

It had started off innocent enough, your body draped across his on the couch, re-runs of a sitcom he couldn’t be bothered to remember playing in the background. It wasn’t long until you had found a way to crawl into his lap, cute and giggly pecks of your lips shifting into a frantic dance of tongues and teeth, hungry and needy.

“Let me take care of you, Javi.”

You had whispered it in his ear like a siren song, the sultry promise of your words making him grow harder by the second beneath you.

It was a luxury he had forgone for too many years to count, to let someone else take the lead- to work herself slowly into his lap, worship every inch of him, and fuck him in a way he was convinced he’d never be worthy of.

In Colombia, sex was far from luxurious. Better yet, sex was a survival instinct- a way to gain intel from questionable informants or a chance to finally numb his mind from the pressure and terror of the things he’d endured, even if just for a little while. It simply existed as another need, like food or water, a way to keep him alive in the chaos of a cartel ridden country.

But now, he’s home. He wakes up in the morning to the soft Laredo sunrise and closes his eyes to the cicadas chirping as the sky shifts to darkness, unburdened by the weight of the world that used to haunt him. Now, he slips into bed next to the warmth and softness of your figure, curled in the sheets next to him.

Now, the world is different, because he has you.

Sex is no longer a need. It’s an overwhelming want that stirs his stomach every time he sees you. It’s a desire that burns deep in his chest, an all consuming thought, an itch he just can’t scratch. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t get enough of you.

He still doesn’t understand how you can’t get enough of him, either.

It’s not your words that solidify his belief that he’s worthy of you, even though every time you talk to him, he’s convinced he can’t breathe- He knows you love him from all the things your words can’t say. Your tender touch, gentle kisses on his lips whenever there’s a chance for them to meet, the way you can’t help but let your hands wander his body until they’ve explored every part of him with a fervent promise of desire.

Perhaps there will always be a part of him convinced he’s not deserving of you, but with the way you have your hands wrapped around his cock, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, it’s all the convincing he needs for right now.

It’s not long until your hands become your mouth, tongue dragging up and down the length of his shaft, swirling around his tip before sinking down so deep, he can feel the huffs of warm air from your nostrils tickling the hairs at his base. He’s lost in the warmth and wetness, hand tangled in your hair as he cradles the back of your head, gently guiding you up and down while you take him down your throat.

As if he wasn’t wrecked already, it’s the devilish grin you shoot him with his cock buried deep inside your mouth, split dribbling down the corners of your curled lips, that has him all but whimpering, soft expletives and moans rapidly spilling out of him.

He’s so drunk on you, eyes closed and head tipped back against the edge of the couch, he’s barely even registered when you’ve stopped, only looking up at you when he feels the way your weight has shifted, one hand bracing yourself against his chest while your hips hover over his cock.

“You ready for me, cowboy?”

He swears that one day that smirk will be damn near enough to kill him, but God knows he won’t let today be that day- not with what you’re about to do.

All he can do is nod, the both of you breathless as you begin to sink down his length. It’s almost painfully slow, the way you’re taking him an inch at a time, teasing him the whole way down until you settle with him stuffing you to the brim, whining as your hips finally flush with his, taking everything he has to give.

He’s not sure what higher power he needs to thank that you have the mercy to start slow- anything but the later, and he would have had no choice but to finish right then and there. His arms reach around your waist, fingers dipping in the dips of your hips as you roll them, like he’s holding on for dear life.

Javi wishes his hands could be everywhere as you lean down to kiss him, that they could grope and grab at the plush of your breasts, cup your face, and smack your ass all at once. He needs you in a way that’s all consuming, a way that lets you know how lucky he is to have every part of you be his, and his alone.

He’s handsy and fumbling like a goddamn teenager- you know it just as well as him. He should be embarrassed by the little giggle you give him in between the muffled moans of your mouths meeting, but he doesn’t care. Instead, for the first time in years, Javi laughs along with you.

“Handsy, much?” You tease, nostrils crinkling and lips curling.

“Can’t get enough of you, hermosa. Can never get enough of you.”

You grant him one last kiss before you pull away, biting down on your lip as you watch his jaw drop at the way you shift your hips, leaning back to drag your cunt up and down his cock, sliding effortlessly with the way it’s drenched with your slick.

The once forgiving ease of your pace has dissipated, your bottom half rocking as you ride him. He can’t decipher if the sultry smile spread across your face is from your own doing, or from the way he’s looking up at you, entranced and captivated by every movement you make.

It’s enough of the second to seem to spur you on, bouncing faster on his length as your hands creep up your own chest, cupping your breasts in your hands to hold them as they jiggle. When your fingers slide across your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hardened buds between your index fingers and thumbs, Javi all but short circuits. There’s an extra ache in the way his cock throbs, watching the show you’re putting on for him.

There’s something harmonious about the way your moans melt with the slap of your hips meeting his. Sure, it’s lewd, but fuck, if it isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard, watching you lose yourself in pleasure with the warmth and wet of your pussy wrapped around him.

“Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so perfect. Look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock.”

He’s not sure how he even has the capacity to form coherent thoughts anymore, desperate and needy babbles falling from his parted lips like an endless waterfall of praises, just for you.

“Feels so good, Javi. So fucking good.”

Your cocky facade is beginning to fade, eyes scrunched shut in focus with every thrust up and down his length. It hasn’t taken him long to recognize the expression now plastered across your face- Javi knows it’s the reflex that tells him you’re close, that it won’t be much longer until you’re clamping down around his cock, the sound of his name hitching in the back of your throat as you cum.

Your once methodical rhythm has transformed into something fiercely frantic, arching your back so that you can reach behind and brace yourself on his thighs, fingertips digging deep half moons into his skin.

He’s too all consumed to do anything but watch, to take in the beauty that radiates off of every part of you straddled across his lap.

He relishes in the melodic symphony of your moans, muffled and mixed with expletives between heavy breaths, lost in the soft sheen of sweat glistening over your skin, shimmering from the way you’ve all but conquered him, hips grinding down on him, taking all of him over and over.

There’s a selfish war raging in his head amidst his mesmerization- One side wishing he could stay like this forever, keep you perched over his lower half, cock stuffed inside you until your bodies give out. The other prays you cum sooner rather than later- He won’t until you do, and lord knows it’s taking every ounce of self restraint he has left to make sure that happens.

Fuck, maybe you really are trying to kill him.

“Oh f-fuck- Fuck, I’m close, Javi.” You whimper, your grip around his thighs growing impossibly tighter as you furrow your brow in focus, not daring to let your pace falter, not when you’ve found the spot where the head of his cock fits perfectly inside you.

“Use me, baby. Fuck- use me, pretty girl.”

It’s not much longer until you’ve reached your peak, feeling the way you tighten around him as you soak his length with your slick, the once steady rhythm of your hips faltering as you cum.

Your head thrusts back, chest heaving as you cry out his name, over and over, a sound he swears he’ll never tire of as long as he’s alive to hear it. Because when it falls from your lips, it stirs something so deep inside him, knowing he’s the reason you feel this way.

That you’re his.

There’s only moments until Javi’s following suit, fingers buried in the soft dips of your hips as he takes one final thrust, moaning into the crook of your neck while he cums, letting your pussy milk him of everything he has to give.

The two of you have become a hot, sweaty mess of limbs, melting into each other’s bodies, unsure of where one starts and the other ends. But even with your head rested against his shoulder, he can feel the way your cheeks tense to house the smile spread between your lips. It’s only then he recognizes the same strain in his face, the subtle smirk he can’t seem to shake whenever he’s with you.

It’s also then he realizes, as long as he’s with you, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to.

“What’s that grin for?” You tease, sitting up to plant gentle kisses on his cheeks, brushing away the dark curls dangling over his forehead.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy, you know that?”

“Well, good thing I feel the same then, huh?”

Both your smiles stretch wider as he cups your jaw in his palm, his hand just big enough to let the ends of his fingers wrap around the back of your head, pulling your mouth to his, letting your lips lock for a moment before you break away.

“Thanks for the ride, cowboy.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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angelltheninth · 3 months ago

Note

Love your LADS writings! Could we maybe get them reacting to their girlfriend wearing their shirt?

I love writing for LADS, now that Caleb is here there's even more hot men to fawn over.

Pining: Zayne, Rafayel, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, sharing clothes, domestic fluff, clothes shopping, possessiveness, being playful, flirting

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wrote this a bit fast because my new PC came in today so I need to set it up. It's gonna be awesome.

Zayne pretends not to notice that it's his shirt you're always wearing in the mornings when you stay over at his place. It's only a shirt, he's got many more just like it. So why is it getting to him when you wear it? Simple, it looks cuter on you, and he tries not to get worked up about it, that would go against his stoic, professional self. However when he sees you wearing his clothes he always tells you that it looks good on you. A sort of subtle encouragement that you should do it more often, and also spend more time at his place because he tries not to leave his clothes at your place.

Rafayel wants to buy some matching clothes when he saw that you wear his on occasion. He's always had a good sense of style and is very happy that you do to, furthermore that you like it so much that you want to wear what he wears. When he sees you wearing his clothes he makes sure to memorize what it looked like on you so he can sketch it later. Before he knows it there are a dozen sketches of you in his clothes. Not that it's a bad thing by any means and he thinks you're catching on to him buying matching clothes because every time you're on a date you're pointing out cute outfits that you say would look great on him.

Xavier doesn't think much of it when he leaves some of his stuff at your place when he comes and goes. What he does think about is how his pants looked on you, too long, cozy, some a bit tight on you, others hanging off your hips, all depending on what you get your hands on at the time. The scene is almost domestic, seeing you not even think about putting on something of his, you don't even say why you do it and he's fascinated by that. Playfully he tugs on the waistband of the pants and tells you he wants them back, only for you to turn the tables and tell him to take them off you if he wants them so bad.

Sylus is very perceptive of what you do when you're around him so there's no way he wouldn't notice you wearing his fancy shirts around the apartment. Those aren't exactly outfits for casual wear so there was no way you could have mistaken them for one of your own, which means you took them on purpose. A man like him doesn't do well when other people touch what belongs to him without his permission. It's bad business practice, and dangerous when you're in deep with criminals like he is. But he could be persuaded to let you get away with it, only because you're his girl and his girl can do whatever she wants with and to him.

Caleb leaves his hoodie at your place on purpose. He did it because he wanted to use it as an excuse to visit again early, he didn't expect that you'd be wearing it when you opened the door for him. All the blood rushed to his brain and caused him to stop all train of thought for a few moments before he smirked and leaned in to whisper how cute you look, his breath hot against your lips before he claimed them in a searing kiss. From that day on he never mentioned anything about you giving him his clothes back. Why would he want it back when it looks so much better on you, sometimes it's all you wear around him.

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darkmatilda · 4 months ago

Text

𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your relationship is still very new, and you're getting ready to tell the rest of the team about it. in the meantime, you find yourselves again in another unusual hotel...where suddenly spencer starts acting very strangely?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses spencer reid x newbau!female!reader, fluff, intimacy conversation, spender being adorably shy

𝐚/𝐧: 'matilda how many more times are you gonna write that one bed trope' AS MUCH AS I CAN TILL I DIE btw i wrote this fic over a pretty long period of time, had a main idea (supposedly), but in the end i'm not happy with how it turned out—kinda all over the place. anyway, enjoy

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4.8k

"My five dollars"

Spencer sighed and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out the slightly crumpled bill. You closed it in your hand, a triumphant smile on your face.

"Let's make bets more often, darling," you suggested.

When you used that nickname, his gaze briefly flickered over your face, as if studying whether it had been said purely in jest.

"You’re puffing up like you just invented the wheel," he said, gently shaking his head from side to side. "And just to remind you, all you did was park parallel."

"Parked parallel, indeed. And my coffee?"

He also handed you the paper cup he’d been holding while you performed those incredibly complicated car maneuvers that the bet was about. It was morning, the first day back at work. January, the first days of the new year. You had just arrived at the office parking lot in your car, after spending the night at your place. Everything around you still seemed to smell of that melancholic blend of the past mixed with the fresh scent of the coming months. And coffee, bought at the café on the way.

You took a tiny sip of the hot drink. Spencer, it seemed, hadn’t touched his even once. Both of you, consciously or not, were stretching out the moment just a little longer. And, truth be told, you could afford to. The parking lot around you was only beginning to fill with cars, suggesting the early hour. It was nice to sit there together, sharing the quiet without any discomfort.

You realized this was supposed to be your first day at work as a couple.

A warm, pleasant feeling spread through you at the sound of that word, even though you hadn’t said it out loud. It still felt a little unreal. You had grown closer during the New Year’s Eve party at your place. It was only after that shared—and not just one—kiss that a new perspective dawned on you about the past months of your relationship, revealing some undefined emotions.

"I was wondering..." Spender suddenly began, his brows furrowed slightly, pulling you out of your thoughts.

His gaze suddenly fell on his watch.

"We still have some time," you reassured him calmly. "Let me guess. You've been wondering what would happen if we crossed the DNA of a jellyfish that can reverse its life cycle with the human genome?"

A small smile flickered across his face, a touch of affection despite the rather serious expression on the rest of his face.

"That too," he admitted, nodding. Then he opened his mouth, with some visible hesitation, as if a particular question was troubling him. You shifted in the driver's seat, preparing for whatever he wanted to discuss, whatever he wanted to ask. "How...how are we supposed to act...you know, towards each other? At work?"

For a moment, your brain didn’t understand what he meant. But then, a fleeting oh escaped you as the meaning of his words sank in, and you realized that it was indeed something worth considering. Somehow, over the past few days, neither of you had brought it up. You had just gone back to work, without any reflection on the fact that none of your colleagues knew about the progress in your relationship. About how it had suddenly taken a step to a completely different level.

Spencer studied your face in silence, waiting for a response. As he looked at you, coming up with a logical solution became incredibly difficult. Before you finally said anything, you let out two half-intelligent mutters, like a fish thrown onto the surface.

"We have to tell them," you finally said, stating the obvious. "Somehow. Maybe...we can meet at my place this weekend. All of us. Or we could go out somewhere, and then tell them calmly."

"This weekend?" Spencer repeated cautiously.

It was Monday.

Suddenly, it became incredibly hard to read the expression on his face. He was facing you, his brows slightly furrowed, a look of uncertainty, almost withdrawal. The air inside your car thickened, making the silence even more palpable. He seemed almost concerned, downcast. You froze, wondering if you had really said something wrong.

"So until then," he started more quietly, "are we just supposed to hide it from them?"

“I'm not sure hide is the right word," you replied with a grimace. "I just...I meant, maybe we should wait. For a better moment, you know? Instead of walking into the office on the first Monday of the year, when half the people are still nursing hangovers, and saying hey, guess what? we hooked up!”

His expression hadn't changed, despite your pretty honest explanation.

"You don't like the idea," you stated, rather than asking. You made sure your voice sounded gentle, adjusting it to the situation. "I can see that, Spencer."

"Okay, you're right, I don't like it," he admitted with a sudden coolness, his lips tightening slightly between sentences. "Because...I don't get your reasoning. Or, maybe I just don’t know if this is really what you mean."

Slightly surprised, you shook your head.

"What else could I—"

"I don’t know if it's really about that, or maybe..." he cut off, looking into your eyes as if hoping you'd understand by now. But you didn't have the skill to read his mind, no matter how remarkable it was—it was also incredibly complex. "Or maybe...I don’t know, you just don’t take it seriously. That's why you don't want to tell anyone about it."

You gasped, finally understanding his behavior. Realizing the hidden concern.

"You’re worried I don't take us seriously?"

Spencer shrugged briefly.

"You know, if that's really the case, I'd rather know now..."

You leaned in to catch one of his hands, which had been clasped over his chest. You broke his defensive stance, pulling him toward you by his long fingers, simply holding it for a moment before speaking again. With a smile. A slightly amused smile.

"Of course, I take us seriously, you idiot," you snorted. A sense of relief washed over you. Earlier, he’d seemed genuinely worried, and you’d been expecting far worse things than the fact that your guy literally paled with anxiety over worrying you weren’t as invested in your fresh relationship as he was. Well, out of context, it sounded like a very serious concern. But the context was, you took it seriously, and you were incredibly happy he did too. "You know what? Maybe you're right. Why should we make idiots out of ourselves for the next week? Let’s just walk in like this."

You motioned toward your intertwined fingers, raising them as if they were a trophy earned through sweat and tears. Spencer followed their movement with his gaze, initially surprised, but then the corner of his mouth twitched, and he tilted his head with a quiet chuckle.

"We can do it your way," he said, taking control of your hands, clasping them with both of his. He looked relieved; your reassurance and the sincerity in your voice clearly calmed him. You smiled too, finally seeing that peace on his face. "I really don't mind waiting a few days. It might even be… interesting. One of us might not hold out and accidentally slip up."

You raised an eyebrow in a teasing manner.

"Another bet, Reid?" you clicked your tongue. You kept eye contact with him, feeling his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of your hand. He seemed so unaffected, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. "You already lost five bucks about…ten minutes ago. At this rate, you'll be broke within a month, and we'll have to skip that overpriced coffee downtown. Now that would be a real horror story, speaking as a citizen of the first world."

"Didn't say anything about another bet!”

"Too late," you shot back, turning his hand and taking it in a more formal handshake. "Handshakes sealed the deal."

He rolled his eyes, but a half-smile lingered on his face. He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

"I think we should get going," he said reluctantly.

You sighed with the same enthusiasm. You really felt stuck to that seat, right next to him.

"You know, being late on the first day of the new year should be fully justified..."

"We really need to go."

He was right. But before either of you could move to get out of the car, he leaned forward. Gently cupping your cheek, he drew you in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, and for a brief moment, the world outside seemed to vanish—just the two of you, in that quiet, perfect stillness.

His face suddenly turned to the side, noticing something through the windshield. You frowned and looked in the same direction.

"That's Gideon," you remarked out loud, even though both of you had already spotted the silhouette of your coworker stepping out of a car that had just parked a short distance ahead. He wasn’t looking your way yet, but he could at any moment. "Quick, hide!"

Okay, you were completely honest with yourself. It wasn’t about being afraid of getting caught. After all, there was nothing strange about two coworkers arriving at work together in the same car—it was even very eco-friendly. You just liked the idea of shoving Reid under the seat. And the poor thing, so thrown off by the mock authority in your voice and the situation itself, did it without a second thought.

When Gideon finally noticed you, you cheerfully waved at him.

"Fuck," you muttered suddenly.

"What is it?" Spencer returned to his seat, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "Do you think he saw me?"

You shook your head.

"I just realized…this is your car."

"Okay, draw a straw."

"Morgan, how old are you?" You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the man standing across from you in the motel lobby. The place where you were spending the night this time was very tidy, with subdued colors, but, as tradition demanded, there had to be some sort of problem. You had one room for two, but one of them only had a double bed. So, you had to decide which two lucky people would share it. "Five?"

"And a half. Listen, we have to decide somehow. Let fate do it. The two who pull the shortest will sleep together. Simple as that."

Before you could say anything else, Garcia approached, weighed down by her bags. Yes, her—rarely did any case require her to be on-site, but it wasn’t completely unheard of.

"Oh, come on, Sweetie," she muttered to you, setting her luggage down and hunching slightly to catch her breath. "Let him feel like a kid again for a moment. He doesn’t get the chance often."

You sighed in resignation, but before you could pull one of the purple straws (how did he even get them?) that Morgan was holding in such a way that their lengths were hidden, you glanced around briefly. Sometimes you arrived at hotels at different times, some getting there faster, others later. Spencer and JJ had just walked in, both wearing coats to shield them from the cold January air. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him and his fogged-up glasses, which he quietly cursed under his breath—judging by the movement of his lips. However, you quickly composed yourself, returning to a neutral expression. It had only been two days since your agreement to keep the details of your relationship hidden, and so far, neither of you had slipped or forgotten to keep quiet around the others. Well, out of the two of you, you were probably struggling with it more—being a bit of a clinger, sometimes even your body would naturally gravitate towards his when standing next to him.

“Why are you standing here?” Spencer asked, approaching you. “Is there a problem with the rooms?”

“Is there ever not a problem with the rooms?” you responded, laughing. “Some poor souls are going to have to share a bed,” you explained, making brief eye contact with him. You were sure only he could catch the emphasis you placed on poor souls.

Of course, you wouldn't mind ending up in the same room. It wasn't about the fact that you were together—before, you’d shared rooms and even beds, and you were used to it by now. You would've probably offered it yourself, if it weren’t for the potential suspicion and that silly bet, which was starting to lose its point in your eyes. Maybe you should’ve just told them a few days ago?

“Oh,” he said shortly, crossing his arms with a bit of stiffness. His brown bag hung from his shoulder. He held your gaze for a moment, but his expression wasn’t as amused as yours. His brows furrowed slightly as he cleared his throat. “Poor them. Who’s it going to be?”

You slightly puffed out your lips slightly, watching him with a sharp look. What was it that made him so uneasy—the fact that you might not be in the same room this time?

“We were just about to decide,” Penelope replied, glancing at her friend with a teasing smile. “Morgan’s going to show us a game he learned today in kindergarten."

JJ couldn't help but snort.

“Just draw a straw…!”

You couldn’t recall another moment when all of you, every single one, rolled your eyes in perfect unison. But that’s exactly what happened when Derek once again enthusiastically explained the rules, as though they weren’t already ridiculously simple. In the end, each of you reached for one of the straws he was holding.

JJ went first. She pulled hers quickly, and it was of regular length, so it was immediately clear she wasn’t one of the poor souls. She raised her hand in a mock display of triumph, earning a few amused chuckles from the group.

Your turn came next. You approached the task with a certain gravity, as though the fate of the night depended entirely on the straw you chose. You studied each one carefully, as if their lengths could somehow be deciphered from the way they were arranged.

You wouldn’t have minded drawing the shortest straw. But only on one condition.

Morgan looked at you with mock sympathy. Your straw wasn’t even half as long as JJ’s, which seemed to settle things. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out which of the remaining two—Reid or Garcia—would end up joining you.

Spencer reached out with a calculated, deliberate motion, his eyes immediately darting to yours when his straw turned out to be...one of the longer ones.

You shot him a look of bitter disappointment before your gaze shifted to your soon-to-be roommate. Penelope didn’t seem disheartened—on the contrary, an enthusiastic smile lit up her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but you caught the fleeting shift in her expression and the subtle flicker of her eyes.

“Oh no,” she suddenly gasped, her voice filled with exaggerated horror, even though she’d just seemed perfectly content, or at least not displeased, at the idea of sharing a room with you. “No, absolutely not. There’s no way I’m sleeping in the same room with her. Do you guys even know how loud she snores?”

Lies! You wanted to yell, but stopped yourself as realization dawned. Garcia was a good actress—you had to give her that—but her flair for dramatics always bordered on overkill, making it far too easy to catch her in a lie.

“I’m not used to traveling as often as you guys are,” Penelope continued in the same over-the-top tone. “I barely get a wink of sleep in a new place when it’s quiet, let alone with someone next to me snoring like a steam engine…”

“Love you too, Pen,” you muttered dryly.

“Someone has to switch with me, please,” she concluded, clasping her fingers together in a dramatic plea and pulling off the best puppy-dog eyes you’d seen in a long time. Well, at least since the time Reid had tried to coax you into reciting one of your old, cringe-worthy high school poems—the existence of which you’d only ever confessed to him.

“JJ?” Penelope turned her hopeful gaze toward her.

“Not a chance. My straw was the longest,” JJ replied, smug and immovable.

“Don’t even think about asking me,” Morgan chimed in before anyone could so much as glance in his direction.

And so, all eyes inevitably fell on Reid.

He awkwardly scratched the back of his ear, not looking directly at you.

“Well, I always carry earplugs with me…”

“Then it’s settled!” Garcia declared, hoisting her luggage with sudden determination. One of her heavy bags was thrust into Morgan’s arms so abruptly that he staggered backward under its weight. “Sweet dreams, everyone! Don’t let the bedbugs bite, and may the sheep you count tonight be extra fluffy and adorable. Goodnight!”

Just before she fully turned to leave, she sent you a quick, knowing wink.

You shook your head in disbelief, but the faintest smile danced on your lips. You didn’t even bother questioning how she knew. Only one conclusion circled your mind. Penelope could be really impossible. Thankfully, being impossible didn’t disqualify her from also being the best friend under this vast, sprawling sky. Period.

"What do you think about starting a tier list for all the hotels we stay in?” you remarked as both of you crossed the threshold of the room. Your eyes immediately landed on its unexpected feature. “Or at least the weirdest ones. Like the one with walls the color of cat pee where the power went out in the middle of the night. That one’s definitely at the top..."

"I don’t really get the point of a mirror on the ceiling," Reid said after a pause, looking over his shoulder at you. He was standing a few steps away, near the bed in the glaring white room with birchwood floors. "Who wants to look at themselves while trying to fall asleep?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. He raised an eyebrow too, not understanding why you did that. Okay, he wasn’t joking.

"You know, the main point isn’t really to look at yourself while falling asleep," you explained, with a bit of amused pity. Your gaze also briefly lingered on the glass surface above the bed, designed to reflect the bodies of people lying in bed. You thought it was a surprising addition but weren’t planning on spending too much time on it for now. You just wanted to get your shoes off—shoes you’d been wearing since sunrise—and finally lie down on something soft. "By the way, I’m taking a shower first."

Spencer only muttered something under his breath in response. Before disappearing behind the bathroom door, you cast one last glance at him. He seemed quiet—strangely quiet. Not that you were expecting his usual chatter after a long day of work; it could weigh on anyone and leave them feeling subdued. Maybe he just needed an extra moment to unwind, and that’s where his restraint came from.

Anyway, you took a quick shower. The pressure of the hot water nearly scalded your skin, which meant you’d be spared the bitter complaints, grumbling, and dramatic resignation threats from Morgan the next day. You felt too tired to linger under the stream for long. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, changed into your sleepwear, and gathered the clothes you’d worn all day from the floor.

You and Spencer passed each other in the doorway without a word.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you frowned. The bathroom door shut behind him, and some concerned question froze on your lips. For a moment, you stood still, debating whether you should ask it. But then the sound of running water reached your ears, and you figured he probably wouldn’t hear you anyway.

Instead, you decided to climb into bed, wait for him, and ask about it then. Whatever it was clearly weighed on him, and the fact that something was bothering him bothered you. Funny how that worked, right?

You spent that moment lying on your back, eyes wide open, afraid you might accidentally fall asleep if you closed them. A comfortable bed during a case—it felt like pure luxury. You were waiting for Spencer to finally emerge from the bathroom so you could curl up next to him, fall asleep to the fresh post-shower scent of him, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Just like you had spent half the day after the New Year’s party at your place—wrapped around each other, arguing over who would get up to make coffee and whether you should start cleaning up the mess from the night before.

You tucked your arm beneath your head, gazing at your fully-covered form reflected in the ceiling mirror.

“Did you find a portal to another galaxy in there or what?” you finally called out, impatient. He’d been in there way too long. And coming from you—a known lover of long, indulgent baths—that was saying something.

“Sorry,” he murmured as he finally emerged from the bathroom, wearing a gray t-shirt instead of his usual neat work attire and tie perfectly knotted at his neck. He still had his glasses on, which he might’ve forgotten to remove, judging by the way he slid into bed to your left without taking them off.

You watched him closely, rubbing at your tired eye. The shower had managed to wash away about half of the tension from Spencer’s face, but the other half stubbornly remained.

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” he said softly.

“I didn’t have to,” you admitted simply, watching as he carefully adjusted himself, finding the right position. The lamp on his side of the bed cast a warm glow over his skin. You were both half-sitting, you comfortably propped up against the soft pillows, and him barely leaning back against them. “But I wanted to. We really lucked out with this room, huh? Penelope is one of a kind.”

"Did you tell her about us?"

"I didn’t say a word. She's just more observant than the rest”

He nodded, agreeing with you. You thought he might say something else about it, maybe make a joke about the bet, but he didn’t. You yawned.

"You seem tired.”

“How did you figure that out, Sherlock?” you asked, your sarcasm light, without a hint of malice. “You too, by the way. Although, it’s not just that you seem tired—you are tired, at first glance. Or maybe something’s bothering you. Or maybe both. Am I right?”

He shrugged slowly.

“No, as far as I know.”

“Oh, come on,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. You pulled your knees closer to your chest, shifting into a full sitting position with slightly bent legs. You leaned forward just enough to gently take his glasses off and fold them, your fingers brushing briefly against his cheek. He didn’t look at what you were doing, his gaze fixed on your face under the soft fall of his lashes. The wonderful color of his eyes, the slight hesitation in your movements as you moved a little closer to kiss him—a fleeting, tender press of lips.

“Something’s going on, and you can tell me about it.”

“Or we could just go to sleep,” he suggested quietly. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, I mean, you yawned a little while ago.”

You tilted your head, studying him thoughtfully. Was he really trying this hard to dodge the topic? How could you get him to open up?

“I know blackmail isn’t exactly healthy for relationships,” you started finally, turning his glasses over in your hands, “but I’m not giving these back until you tell me.”

Both corners of his mouth twitched at once.

“Oh no, what am I going to do now?” he replied with feigned concern, gently shaking his head. Then he lowered his voice. “This is exactly what I’d say if I didn’t also have contacts with me.”

"Sometimes I just want to…ugh."

"Violence isn't too healthy for relationships either."

"Just like not opening up. Remember what we talked about a few days ago in the car? You were worried I don't take you seriously. How else am I supposed to prove I'm serious if I don’t ask what’s wrong when I can tell something’s off?"

Your explanation sounded a bit jumbled, but he had to get the general idea. The reference to that specific conversation and his own words seemed to hit a sensitive spot.

"I didn’t want you to feel like you have to prove anything to me," he quickly corrected, swallowing hard. His chest fell, and the sigh felt like surrender. "I'm sorry. I just don't want you to worry about it. It's nothing serious. I’m just tired...and a little stressed."

"Stressed?" you repeated, surprised. "You're stressed? But about what?"

He hesitated for a moment.

"Just... about this," he said vaguely, his gaze shifting from you to your reflection in the glass ceiling. "Us, I mean."

"What do you mean?" you asked quietly, still confused, gently shaking your head. "We've shared rooms before, so if it’s about that, I really don’t get it."

"Yeah, but never like this. In a room with a king-sized bed and a huge mirror right above us," he explained, his voice tinged with embarrassment, clearly wishing he could just stop talking. "Okay, I know this sounds dumb, I know it does, but I don’t know why it’s messing with my head like this. I just...I kinda thought maybe you'd want to..."

"Spencer," you interrupted, saving him from going any further. You saw a flicker of relief in his eyes. You weren’t sure what emotion was bubbling up inside you now—whether it was still confusion or just pure amusement. "You were worried I’d want to have sex with you?”

You didn’t even need to wait for his answer to know you’d hit the nail on the head. Considering how your relationship had grown out of friendship, slowly evolving over time and shared experiences instead of a sudden burst of passion, you weren’t surprised you hadn’t yet taken that step together. It was something special in its own way—there had never been any pressure, and you hadn’t expected that he might feel the exact opposite.

So when you finally figured out what had been bothering him all this time, you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine.

"You were right, you know. It does sound kind of dumb," you said, unable to keep the smile from your face. His expression remained unreadable, his posture betraying a hint of anticipation as he waited for the rest of your reaction. "But also…I don’t know, kind of adorable? But seriously, Spencer, we don’t have to do anything if you’re not ready."

"It’s not that I don’t want to at all," he clarified quickly, almost too firmly. "I mean...it’d be our first time. Together. That’s what I mean. And I guess I just didn’t expect it to...happen tonight, here, of all places."

"I didn’t either," you admitted truthfully, the smile still lingering on your face. Unlike him, you didn’t feel even a hint of embarrassment. "I figured we’d just go to sleep, especially since we both already admitted we’re exhausted."

"Fair point," he mumbled.

"Honestly, this has to be the biggest example of overthinking I’ve ever seen anyone put themselves through, Spencer," you teased lightly, shaking your head.

For a moment, he stayed silent, but it felt like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding.

“You’re gonna have to get used to that,” he admitted finally, his voice soft. But then, you caught the faint glimmer of a smile tugging at his lips.

He even started to laugh, a quiet chuckle filled with a sort of amused self-awareness. Meanwhile, you leaned out of the bed to place his glasses on the nightstand on your side. If he wanted them in the morning, he’d have no choice but to reach right over you.

“But just for the record,” he began after a moment, as you reached for the edge of the blanket that had slipped off you earlier, pulling it back up to wrap around yourself. Your head was only inches from the pillow now. You gave him a questioning nod. He, too, was getting ready to lie down, finally looking genuinely relaxed. “How pathetic do you think that was, on a scale from one to ten?”

You just rolled your eyes, not even dignifying the question with an answer.

“In the interest of science,” he pressed, “one to ten?”

“Pathetic enough that you’ll need to redeem yourself a little in my eyes,” you sighed dramatically. “Go on, I’m waiting for your ideas.”

“I think I might have a few,” he replied with a soft chuckle.

You prolonged the kiss, savoring the deep sense of comfort it brought you. The two of you lay face to face, and you gently brushed a few still-damp strands of hair from Spencer's forehead, though they stubbornly fell back into place. Eventually, you gave up with a soft sigh against his lips. Spencer kept his eyes closed, lost in a quiet bliss, even as you pulled back just slightly, leaving only an inch of space between you.

"Can I turn off the light now?" you asked, as always. The question had become a tradition since you'd learned about his complicated relationship with darkness.

He hummed in agreement, nodding faintly. Leaning over him, you reached for the bedside lamp on his side. The room was instantly bathed in darkness, your reflections in the mirror above fading into obscurity.

You didn’t fully return to your original spot. Instead, you shifted closer, resting your head comfortably against his chest. The hotel pillows were unbelievably plush, you had to admit, but that night, you chose this over anything else.

"You’re not asleep," he noted gently after about fifteen minutes. He cleared his throat. "During sleep, a person’s breathing becomes slower and more regular. You know, if you’re uncomfortable here, you don’t have to…"

"I’m listening to your heartbeat," it slipped out of you. Though it was true, you hadn’t planned on admitting it out loud. "Nothing sinister, just to be clear. I’m not planning to rip it out of your chest or anything like that. It just works for me."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Like those videos that imitate the sound of a crackling fireplace. Pretty calming."

"My heartbeat reminds you of the sound of a fireplace?" he said, a glint of confusion in his softly hoarse voice.

You sighed, in the darkness, he couldn’t see the faint smile painting itself on your face, pressed against his chest.

"Sweet dreams, silly."

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em1i2a3 · 2 months ago

Text

Party 4 U

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI, Swearing, Established Causal Relationship Between Bucky and Reader, Avengers live in the tower all together. Smut; Dirty Talk, Fingering, Rough Sex, Light Choking, Biting, Overstimulated Bucky and Reader, Unprotected P in V sex (Wrap wrap wrap it up!), A hint of aftercare because aftercare is hot :D

Author's Note: Thought I’d do something a bit lighter than my other one-shots I’ve been working on (they’re all very long, so I’m trying to give my brain a break to write happy little stories!). I thought this would be the perfect time to write something based off of Bucky’s birthday since it was last week! I know it’s a bit late, but I did my licensing exam that day and I have been reeling from the passing mark, and celebrations really crowded my time lol. Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy!! And thank you so much for all the love you guys gave to ‘My Desire,’ do not fret, I will give y’all that little continuation (currently have it on my writing list :))

Word Count: 12,241

“I’m not going to let you go until you agree that you’re not going to throw me a party.” Bucky insisted, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you against him as you tried to playfully break away from his broad half naked body, your shirt riding up in the process, exposing your lacy underwear. He leaned his chin on your chest, staring up at you, admiring the fact that you thought you were going to be able to get out of his trap without agreeing to what he said.

”Bucky, I gotta meet Stark, you have to let me go.” He smirked, his blue eyes glistening slightly in the lighting of his room, darting all over your face before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss, his hands grabbing onto your butt, kneading the flesh beneath his palms, earning a sigh from you. He pulled away for a moment.

”There’s absolutely no way you’re meeting with Stark, there’s too much opportunity to plan a party.” He joked, peppering kisses along your face. You laughed at the wetness of his lips, bringing your hands up to his cheeks, caressing them, his eyes returning to yours, a hazy smile pulling up onto his face as his stubble scraped against your palms.

“You’re the only person that I know who doesn’t enjoy celebrating their birthday.” You replied, shifting on his lap, earning a small hum, the warmth of you pressing against his boxer shorts, feeling the muscles of his thighs flexing beneath you.

“Doll…When you’re turning an age that makes it look like the cake is on fire because of how many candles you need to put on it, birthdays really become a let down.” He explained, as you trailed your hand up to his hair, pushing the damp strands back out of his face.

“Well, that’s why we are just going to put the numbers on it instead of a bunch of candles.” You joked, your fingers tracing across his lips. Bucky let out a small rumbling laugh, his tongue darting out to lick the tips of them playfully.

”You’re absolutely relentless.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, “You really want to celebrate me that badly huh?” You could feel your heart skip a beat, your stomach fluttering from his words.

”I mean, someone’s gotta make you feel special. Might as well be me.” You replied, shrugging at him, your hand returning to his cheek, scratching at the stubble.

”You always make me feel special though.” He replied, quietly. You smiled at him, giving him a small kiss on his lips.

”Guess I better keep my track record going then hmm?” You could see his cheeks blush a dull red, as he shook his head, his fingers brushing along your thigh, skimming the lace of your underwear.

”You’re really not going to give up?” He asked, his eyebrows raising at you.

”I think you know me better than that, Bucky.” He let out a long sigh.

”I’m in a casual fling with a menace.” You grinned at his comment, leaning in, his breath hitting your lips.

”Takes one to know one.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, his arms tightening around you even more, just to make sure you didn’t forget the situation you were in.

“Just remember you have to somehow escape this to be able to plan your little party.” You tilted your head back slightly, tapping a finger against your lips.

”Hmm…I’m pretty sure I can manage.” You quipped, bringing your fingers over his thick shoulders, tracing down the ridges in his skin. Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but that was when you struck. In one swift movement you brought your hand down to the sensitive spot right below his ribs, pressing into it, tickling him. He yelped, his body jerking involuntarily, his grip on you loosening just enough so you could slip off his lap, and off the bed. A victorious smirk draped on your lips as the look of shock came onto his face.

”Did you just-“

“It’s pretty easy to know where you’re ticklish Bucky, I’m very observant.” You cut in, giving him a wink, grabbing your sweatpants off the ground, and quickly shimmying into them.

”I’ll get you back for this. Don’t worry.” He warned. You smiled at him.

”I’m sure you will,” You replied, tying the strings of the sweatpants as you opened his door, “I’ll see you later?” You asked, eyebrows raised, watching him closely, seeing the way he fought back a smile.

”…Yes.” You grinned at the way he responded under his breath.

”Good.” You said softly, slipping out from the room, closing the door behind you, still feeling your body buzzing from the aftershocks of your little evening rendezvous. You barely made it three steps before you spotted Natasha leaning against the wall, watching you with an amused expression, her arms crossed over her chest.

”What?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat up under her gaze.

”You two never cease to amaze me with how much sex you can have in one day.” She commented, you let out a small laugh.

”Come on, it’s not THAT much.” You shot back, causing her to raise her eyebrows.

”Yeah? Let me rifle off the list of just today, you guys took a shower together…”

”Hey, we just do that to save water.” You interrupted, “And because it’s nice when someone can reach your back.” Natasha shook her head.

”Then you guys ran off to ‘train’, now you just came out of his room. You guys are like bunny rabbits.” You laughed a bit, scratching the back of your neck.

”I mean…Can you blame him? He’s making up for lost time.” Natasha snorted.

”Lost time?” You shrugged, feigning innocence.

”Y’know, the seventy-plus years where he was either frozen, brainwashed, or avoiding human interaction?” Natasha huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at you.

”Right, because obviously, the best way to make up for decades of trauma is to rail your girlfriend at every possible opportunity.” You smirked.

”Hey, I’m just doing my civic duty to the country to keep Bucky Barnes happy and stable.” Natasha laughed.

”Happiness is one thing. You two go at it like you’re training for the Olympics.” You pressed your palms against your face, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

”Are we really still talking about my sex life over here?” Natasha shrugged.

”The whole team talks about it. Clint calls you two ‘Barnes and Noble’ because of how much time you spend in each other’s rooms…That and you guys don’t really keep your little sexcapades a secret.” You sighed.

”Fantastic…Well…I have to go get Bucky’s birthday present from Tony, so hopefully you guys will get a much needed break from us.”

————

By the time you reached Tony’s lab he had been waiting for over twenty minutes, leaning against his workbench, sipping coffee from his mug, slurping loudly to annoy you.

”You’re late,” He remarked, “Got distracted?” You sighed, walking over to the workbench, taking a seat on one of the stools.

”Of course I did. But you would know that because you probably saw me stumbling out of Bucky’s room on the cameras.” He held his hands up in defence.

”Hey hey, I’m not that concerned about you and the soldier frolicking around like two teenagers. You’re both adults…Well, he’s technically a fossil, but still. You’re free to do whatever you’d like.” You let out a small laugh.

“Sure…Sure,” You sighed, looking at the content strewn about the workbench, your eyes falling on the long black velvet box with a silver bow on it, “Is this it?” You asked, pointing at it before picking it up.

”Yep, straight from Wakanda, pulled a few strings for you so you could get the best of the best for him.” You dragged your fingers across the velvet box, “I did the engraving for you.” He added, as you cracked it open, your breath hitching in your throat. It was everything you had described.

Inside, nestled against the silk black lining, was a custom vibranium combat knife, black and gold like Bucky’s arm. At the bottom of the handle was an engravement with his initials, J.B.B, and along the spine of it , were two sets of coordinates carefully etched into the metal, one for Brooklyn, and one for Avengers Tower. One for where it all started for him, and the other for where he found himself again and built something new. Tony could see your eyes light up at the sight.

”Pretty nice hmm?” You swallowed hard, nodding.

”He’s gonna love it.” Tony huffed, leaning back against the workbench, taking another sip of his coffee.

”You know, for someone who insists that this whole thing is casual, you sure put a lot of thought into that.” You exhaled sharply, snapping the box closed.

”Don’t start.” Tony smirked at your reaction.

”Just making an observation, kid.” You rolled your eyes, slipping the box into the pocket of your sweatpants.

“It’s just a gift.” You said, as if you were trying to convince yourself too.

“Right…Because people definitely get custom-engraved, sentimentally-loaded, personally-designed weapons all the time for their totally casual, not-at-all serious partners.” You stared at him, shifting slightly at his call out.

”Well, what matters more than your over analyzing is that he’s going to love it.” You paused, “Oh, and by the way, I’m going to be throwing a little party for him tomorrow, if you don’t mind of course.” He sighed.

”I don’t really have a choice do I?” You shook your head.

”Not really. You’re welcome to come by the way.” You said jokingly, “Just try not to scare off the guests.” You added.

”Please, I’m the life of the party.” You stood up from the stool.

”Yeah? Tell that to the last one where you made Peter cry during beer pong.” Tony laughed.

”Hey, I was teaching him the life lesson of losing.” You snorted, shaking your head, “If he couldn’t handle one loss, he’s got bigger problems.” You smirked.

”I think it was the hangover that really got him, but anyways, I gotta go hide this and start getting everything together. Thank you again, and please thank Shuri too.” He nodded.

”I’ll see you at the party.”

————

When you returned to your room you were thankful that Bucky wasn’t in your bed just yet, it gave you the opportunity to hide his gift in your closet, underneath a bunch of junk he wouldn’t care to look through. Satisfied with the hiding spot, you stretched out your back, grabbing a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. You swapped your outfit to your sleeping clothes, knowing Bucky would be here soon. You pushed your hair out of your face, throwing yourself down on your bed, crawling under the blankets, getting comfortable before turning on the television, absentmindedly flipping through channels.

The familiar creak of your door opening echoed through your room, seeing Bucky slip in. He had a habit of just letting himself in, never bothering to knock. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants, and a grey t-shirt that clung to every muscle on his body. You liked it when he wore casual clothes, he looked comfortable.

“Comfy already, huh?” He asked, seeing how settled in you were, your body tucked under the thick blankets, leaving only your head exposed. You smirked at him.

”Well, some of us don’t take an hour to get ready for bed, princess.” He huffed out a laugh, shutting the door behind him completely.

”Very funny.” He said, reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. You tried hard not to stare, but every time you saw him shirtless it was like the first time all over again, the way you felt your heart race when he revealed himself to you, when you ran your hands over his broad expanse of skin, kissing everywhere you could. It was hard not to be enamoured by him still, and he always caught you looking at him, with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. He smirked, his cheeks turning a blush red, as he slipped under the covers beside you, propping himself up on his elbow.

”Always staring.” He commented, as you nudged him with your foot.

”I’m just admiring.” He let out a low hum, watching as you turned onto your side to face him, his arm curling around you, to bring your body close to his, feeling his hand slip beneath your shirt, resting on your back. His sweet aftershave tickled your nose, as his scent completely engulfed you; woods, pine and a little bit of salt.

“Oh really, I guess we have different definitions of admiring.” You felt his fingers tracing slow lazy circles against your skin, as his vibranium arm slid beneath your pillow.

”And what’s your definition?” Bucky’s blue eyes flickered over you, the corner of his lips twitching up.

”My definition? When someone appreciates something from a respectable distance…Not when they’re eyeing me like a snack every time I take my shirt off.” You let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand against his chest.

“You think I’m looking at you like a snack?” He nodded, as your legs snaked around him, his thigh resting against the seam of your shorts. “Don’t discount yourself so much…It’s more like I’m looking at you like you’re a full-course meal.” He laughed nervously at your correction, still getting flustered at the way you flirted with him, shaking his head.

”You’re ridiculous.” You smiled up at him, running your hand along his chest.

”I love how flustered I make you when I say stuff like that.” He rolled his eyes.

”You do know women back in the 40’s weren’t as forward as you, right? I’m allowed to blush.” You shifted a bit, so his thigh was slotted more firmly between yours, feeling the way his muscles flexed at the contact, as a warm heat curled low in your stomach.

“I’m sure they were saying it about you behind your back.” You whispered, his fingers trailing up your spine, his nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

“Oh yeah? You think they were writing about me in their diaries?” His voice was smooth, sultry in a way that was slow and steady. You breathed in his breath, tilting your head slightly.

”Please…With that face? Those baby blue eyes? They were probably clawing at each other to talk to you.” You responded, your fingers trailing down his chest, grazing over the muscles of his stomach.

”Man…You really think I was a heartbreaker back then huh?” You let out a soft laugh, your hand settling on the waistband of his sweatpants.

”I don’t think…I know.” Bucky shook his head, his fingers flexing against your back, pressing you closer to him, dragging you on his thigh in the process, needing to feel you on him, your lips parting slightly at the friction, his fingers grazing down your flesh to hold your waist gently.

”Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” His chest vibrated against yours, his breath tickling your skin, as his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, your fingers curling around his waistband.

“And why’s that?” You asked, his lips pressing against your jaw gently.

”Because the only person I want thinking about me like that now…Is you.” He whispered, your teeth biting the inside of your bottom lip, his words pooling in the pit of your stomach. Now you were the one who’s cheeks were on fire. He was always like this when it was just the two of you- soft, unguarded.

”You think I spend my time daydreaming about you?” You teased, shifting against his thigh again, getting even closer to him, if that was even possible. Bucky exhaled sharply at the sensation, his grip on your waist tightening.

”I know you do,” He countered, watching as you leaned your head back so he could get access to your neck, your flesh prickling up at the way his hot breath fanned out over the expanse, nipping gently with his teeth, “Just like I think about you all the damn time.” Your fingers curled tighter around his waistband.

”All the time, hmm?” You murmured, your heart pounding against your chest, feeling his vibranium arm move out from under your pillow, slipping under you so he could shift on top of you gently, without putting all his weight on you, your leg perched on his waist

”Mmhmm. Didn’t you ever wonder why I always found an excuse to be around you?” You let out a soft laugh.

”I figured it was because you liked to annoy me.” Bucky pulled back, shaking his head.

”Well that too, but it was mostly because I couldn’t stay away.” You couldn’t help but smile at the way he whispered like it was some sort of secret, a hidden anecdote, even though you had known right away that he had feelings when he began wanting to be around you more. You ran your hand up his chest, tracing over the faint scars that had mapped out pieces of his past. Your touch was always gentle, reverent in a way that made him immediately settle. You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest, right near his vibranium arm.

“You’re such a sap.” He let out a soft chuckle.

”I can top what I just said by a mile if you like sappiness.” Your lips tilted against his skin, pressing another lingering kiss to the same spot before lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Go on…” You encouraged, watching his lips curl into a lopsided smile, as he brought his hand up to cradle your cheek, his vibranium hand slipping down to the top of your shorts.

”I used to think about this…” He admitted, the cool metal sliding beneath your waistband, against your skin, but not going to where you wanted him the most, not right now at least, because he always took his time with you, “Touching you like this…Having you like this.” His words sent shivers down your spine, the rasp of his voice vibrating against you, as his thumb traced the shape of your lips, his heavy-lidded eyes watching, feeling your hips moving up towards his touch, trying to guide him to where you wanted his hand.

“Bucky…” You breathed out, saying his name like it was a prayer on your tongue, your grip on his waistband tightening even more, feeling his vibranium hand travel lower into your shorts.

”Every night…I would think about what sounds you’d make if I touched you like this.” He confessed, his fingers grazing against your clit, your back arching towards him a small gasp escaping your lips. He always found a rhythm that made you squirm, and tonight was no different, he wanted to draw this out as long as he could, and wanted to unravel you in all the ways possible. His lips covered yours, swallowing another gasp that nearly escaped your throat, his tongue slipping into your mouth, desperate to taste you, as your hips moved against his fingers, adding additional pressure for yourself. He pulled back, out of breath, his eyes searching yours as your hand came up to hold the back of his, leaning into his touch.

“God you’re so beautiful...” He whispered, moving his vibranium hand lower, gathering your arousal on his fingers, before slipping two of them into you, a moan escaping your throat, trying to let it out quietly so nobody would hear. Your back arched towards him, your lashes fluttering closed, feeling his cool metal fingers curling slightly inside of you, moving them with agonizing slowness, so you could feel every ridge of the vibranium. He knew that if he wanted to he could make you finish in a minute because of how familiar you were to him, but tonight was not one of those nights, he just wanted to be close to you, wanted to cherish you for the night. He savoured every soft sound that slipped past your lips, as he leaned down peppering small kisses along your hot cheeks, trailing down the side of your throat, his stubble scraping over the skin, another breathless moan escaping you.

”I could listen to you all fucking night.” He commented, his hand falling from your cheek, coming to cup the side of your neck, “But I also would like you to look at me please…” He added, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate path along your throat where your pulse pounded against his touch. Your eyes, still heavy with pleasure, fluttered open, meeting his gaze, a small smile draped on his face.

”That’s it…” He praised, his lips grazing your temple, your hips bucking against his fingers, your walls tightening around them, “That’s my good girl.” He whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he pulled your shirt off your shoulder, so he could gently suck on the skin of your collarbone, knowing exactly where your weak spots were, the speed of his fingers slowly increasing.

“Is this what you think about when you’re alone? My hands on you, my fingers inside you, stretching you…Fucking you.” You shuddered against him, the deep, raspy tone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. Bucky’s control was maddening to you, it was perfectly measured, and perfectly torturous. You reached for his bicep, your nails digging into the warm flesh, while you continued to roll your hips against his hand. You needed more, and you weren’t above begging for it.

“Bucky, p-please.” You gasped, your voice trembling, your heartbeat shaking your chest just enough that it was intruding on your speech. Your thighs tightened around his waist. “Fuck please…I need you to go faster.” He hummed against your skin, pulling away slightly.

”You sound so pretty when you beg.” He whispered, his hot breath sticking to your bruised skin, as he appeased your request, his fingers curling more inside you, picking up the pace a bit, knowing that you would be writhing beneath him in an instant. He could feel you tighten around him, your body arching beneath him, your legs squeezing his waist, pressing desperately into his touch, into him. His movements were precise, like he knew your body better than you did, like he wanted to pull every sound from you. Your nails dug into his bicep even deeper, gripping him like he was anchoring you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Bucky holy fuck.” You wept, your breath coming in short, uneven breaths. He pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone, before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“You gonna come for me baby?” The rasp of his voice was all consuming, his words curling around you, pulling you into the heat of the moment, your body meshing with his. You could feel his lips press a small, wet kiss against the spot just below your ear, “Answer me sweetheart.”

“Y-Y-Yes, Bucky…Fuck.” You moaned, and then you fell off the edge. A sharp gasp escaping your throat, your body tensing beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in waves, shaking beneath him, clenching around his body and his fingers. Bucky didn’t stop, he didn’t look away, he drank up every second with joy flashing in his eyes. He loved giving you pleasure, and this was the payoff, watching you unravel, feeling you tense around him, and dig your nails into his arm.

“So perfect.” He whispered, hearing you let out a small whimper, hypersensitive to his touch, still pulsing around him, your body trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled through you slowly. You tried to catch your breath, feeling Bucky running his thumb over the column of your throat, watching you patiently, his body heat against yours, his mouth pressing soft kisses to your jaw, his fingers slipping out of you slowly.

“Still with me?” He asked gently. You swallowed, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue ones.

”Y-Yeah.” You managed to force out, a smirk coming up on his lips, sliding his hand out of your shorts, bringing it up into your view, showing it glistening with the evidence of your pleasure, as he slowly cleaned them off with his tongue, humming in approval.

”Always so sweet.” You were wrecked by the sight, the coil in your stomach already reigniting. You wanted to return the favour immediately. You released his bicep, your hand tracing down to the waistband of his sweatpants, making your intent clear, but the moment before you could untie the knot, he stopped you.

”Not tonight.” He murmured.

”But-“

“Uh-uh…I just wanted to take care of you tonight, that’s all I wanted…” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips, his wet fingers coming up to caress the side of your neck, as he slipped off to the side of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“Fine…But tomorrow I’m definitely getting you back.” He held his hands up in defence.

”You can do whatever you want, I promise, I won’t stop you.” A slow, calculating smirk formed across your lips, narrowing your eyes at him

”You better not.” You warned, your fingers trailing up the rigid planes of his chest. He let out a low chuckle.

”I mean it…You can have your way with me however you want.” You hummed, your mind already spinning with plans. He caught the look on your face, the way your lips curved, how your eyes darkened with lust behind them. He let out a breath of laughter, “And you’re already plotting something, so I guess I’ll take that as a success.”

————

When you woke up the next morning, Bucky was gone. He had left a note on his pillow, scrawled in his messy handwriting, telling you Steve and him had plans and that he would be seeing you tonight. Thankfully, you already knew about this, because you were the one that had set this up to get him out of the tower, it was to buy you time to get his party together. You slid out of bed, rolling your shoulders, shaking the exhaustion out of your body, a soft sigh escaping into the air as you slipped out of your room. You moved through the hallway, and into the living room. It was a controlled mess of decorations, with boxes of supplies stacked on the table and strewn about the floor. Natasha stood in the middle of it all with a coffee mug in hand, sipping slowly, her eyes settling on you as you came into her line of sight.

”Good morning sunshine. You look like a wreck.” You pushed your hair out of your face, making your way to the kitchen.

”Thank you, Nat. I had a late night yesterday.” She smirked over the rim of her mug.

”Let me guess, you were up giving the birthday boy his special gift?” She teased, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, shaking your head at her.

”You’d be surprised to know that I was in fact not doing that.” Natasha raised a brow at her.

”Yeah? Then why do you look so tired?” She asked. You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could Wanda sauntered into the room, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, cradling a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

”Cause they were busy running the bases and not hitting home…If that’s what the term is of course.” Natasha choked on her coffee, her head snapping at you laughing a bit.

”Oh…So you guys didn’t have sex, you just ran the bases, is that a normal occurrence?” You groaned, rubbing your forehead with one hand while the other clutched your coffee mug.

”You two are relentless, you know that?” You commented.

”Well you never spill the beans about it, and we’re all curious because we literally hear you guys. So what do you expect us to do?” Wanda asked, taking a seat on the couch.

“Yeah, and on top of that I’m more curious about the dynamic here. You guys say you’re casual, but you sleep in each other’s beds every night, and are pretty much attached to the hip.” You sighed, putting your coffee mug down on the counter.

”We are casual…We have an understanding, an agreement, it’s plain and simple. Keep things light, have fun, and don’t make things complicated.” Natasha hummed.

“Right…Even though he worships the ground you walk on.” You rolled your eyes.

”He doesn’t worship me, he respects me, yes…But worship is extreme.” Wanda let out a small laugh.

”He absolutely does, you’re just blind.” Natasha took a sip of her coffee.

”He looks at you like you’re a miracle. He tracks you across a room like you’re the only person in it, and not only that but he stares at you…” You laughed a bit.

”Bucky always stares though, you guys are being dramatic.” You exclaimed, picking up your coffee mug again, taking another sip.

”Are we though?” Wanda challenged, tilting her head, “Let’s run through the facts, shall we? He only sleeps in a bed when you’re in it, he only lets you touch his vibranium arm, and he gets jealous when you’re talking to other guys…Remember that time we all went out to that bar downtown and that dude came up to you and hit on you? Then he was all broody for the rest of the night until you gave him some attention?” You groaned, putting the mug down again.

“Okay, fine…He got a little tense that time, but that doesn’t mean anything, he’s always been protective, you guys both know that.” They both sighed in unison.

”Fine, but what about the other things we listed for you…He’s vulnerable with you, he’s not like that with any of us, except Steve.” Natasha chimed in, as your fingers drummed against the countertop.

”Listen, he trusts me, that’s all there is to it. You guys are really looking too deeply into this, and I’m really not in the mood to defend our dynamic right now, so can we just call this a stalemate?” Wanda looked over at Natasha, then back to you.

”Stalemate it is…But just know, that when the whole casual thing implodes, we’ll be the people to say we told you so.” Wanda explained, your eyes glancing over at Natasha who smirked, taking another sip of her coffee.

”And we’re not going to be nice about it.” Natasha added.

————

The three of you worked for six hours decorating the living room, transforming it into something that actually looked like a party instead of a chaotic mess of things that got thrown together at the last minute. Banners were hung, the furniture was rearranged to give everyone more space to freely move around, and twinkling lights were strung up around the room to give it more of a laid back look. A giant “Happy Birthday, Bucky” sign stretched across the wall behind the bar, and the tables were lined with food, drinks, and an impressive-looking cake that looked too massive for the amount of people that were coming. Clint said bigger was better, so you couldn’t fault him for making that choice. Guests began to arrive soon after, which was your cue to go get changed before things got too chaotic.

You slipped into your room, shutting the door behind you, with your pulse thrumming in anticipation. You opened up your closet, pulling out the clothes that you already had set up for yourself. It was simple, a black wrap dress, thin and silky, with a deep v neckline that showed enough to tease, and a tie that held it all together. You had also prepared what you would be wearing under the dress, a matching set of black lace lingerie, delicate, and intricate, designed with the sole purpose of temptation.

You ran your fingers over the soft lace, your body already humming with excitement. The bra barely covered anything, the sheer fabric teasing more than it concealed, while the matching thong sat perfectly against your hips, accentuating every curve. The final touch was the lace garters that held up your thigh-high stockings, the tiny clasps clicking into place as you adjusted them.

Satisfied with how everything looked, you slipped into the silky wrap dress, the fabric cool against your skin. You tied the knot at the side, securing it just enough to stay in place—but loose enough that a single pull would undo everything. It was perfect, not too fancy, but not too casual, just right for the occasion, and for the after party. Just as you were putting the last touches on, your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Steve: Just pulled up with the birthday boy, hope everything is ready, he was becoming suspicious.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

You: Everything’s ready, you can come up whenever you get here :)

You put the phone back onto the nightstand, doing one last check in the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly so it fell perfectly on your body, sighing, before making your way out into the hallway. You could hear chatter, it sounded like during the time you were in your bedroom more guests had arrived, which brought you some comfort that people got your invitations. The second you turned the corner into the living room you spotted Peter hovering near the snack table, eyeing the cake, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was restraining himself from stealing a piece. You shook your head, going over to him, sneaking up behind him.

”Don’t even think about it, Spider-Boy.” Peter practically jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast he nearly knocked over a plate of appetizers. His face flushing a deep shade of red, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing that he was caught red-handed.

”I wasn’t doing anything…Okay, m-maybe I was thinking about it but I wasn’t actually going to do it.” He stammered, glancing between you and the cake behind him, “It’s just right there, and it does look quite delicious.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Mhm…” You responded, knowing he would continue to dig his own grave. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

”Alright, in my defense, Clint did say it was big, which means we would have extra cake, so a tiny little bite wouldn’t have been missed.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It would be noticed. You’re not that sneaky, and I would also tell Bucky it was you.” Peter’s eyes widened.

”You wouldn’t.” You smirked, leaning in just enough, lowering your voice.

”Oh, but I would.” He groaned, “It’s called having self-control Peter, you gotta try it sometime.” You commented, patting his shoulder. Before he could argue Natasha’s voice rang through the room.

”They’re coming up! Everyone shut it and get into place!” The room instantly fell into a frenzy. People scrambled, ducking behind furniture, moving into place near the bar, and switching off the overhead lights so only the twinkling decorations remained. You hurried into position, standing near the center where you’d have a perfect view of Bucky when he walked in, hiding behind the coffee table to be sure he wouldn’t see you, your heart pounding in anticipation as the elevator dinged.

”SURPRISE!” The room erupted into cheers, party poppers bursting into the air as Steve used Bucky inside. You could see from where you were that Bucky looked completely caught off guard, his brows furrowing, scanning over the room, taking in the decorations, the banner, the crowd of people waiting just for him. Then, slowly, his expression softened.

“You guys…” His voice quieter than expected, almost uncertain, nervous even, but there was such warmth in his gaze that you could tell he was touched by the gesture. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, grinning widely.

”Told you we had plans.” He said, laughing a bit as Sam walked up to him.

”And by we, he means her.” He nodded in your direction, Bucky’s gaze following, landing on you in an instant as you rose from your spot, with your hands up, ready to claim innocence. You could see his eyes roaming over your outfit, the way your curves were accentuated, and the amount of skin he was able to drink in.

”I know you didn’t want a party…But I just couldn’t resist.” You said, moving towards him with your lips forming a small smile. Bucky let out a soft laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as you took up the space in front of him.

”You really did this all for me huh?” You shrugged playfully, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

”Of course I did.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head, his blue eyes flickering at you.

”There was no need to go through all this trouble.” You reached out, brushing your fingers over his forearm.

”I wanted to do this for you.” His gaze scanned over the room again, taking in the way everyone was gathered just for him. It was almost overwhelming that people cared about him enough to show up, and he could feel his heart clench in his chest just thinking about how much work you put in to get everything together within the day basically.

”Well…I’ll admit it's very nice.” He said softly, you smiled up at him, fingers still resting lightly on his forearm, dragging up the skin, causing goosebumps to form.

“Nice? That’s all I get?” You teased, tilting your head to the side, “I was hoping for spectacular…Incredible…Maybe even the best party you’ve ever had.” Bucky let out a huffed laugh, shaking his head at you.

”Alright…It’s perfect. Happy now?” Your fingers trailed a little higher up his arm, nails skimming over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tensed every so slightly beneath your touch.

”I’m getting there.” You murmured, biting back a smirk. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

”You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?” His voice is quieter now, his eyes roaming over you discreetly.

”I enjoy making your birthday special…How I do that is a different conversation entirely.” He squinted at you, shifting his weight, stepping just a little closer, his body brushing against yours, testing the waters.

”You keep talking like that, doll, and I’m gonna start thinking you have some alternative plans for me tonight.” He whispered, his breath hitting your cheeks, causing them to heat up.

”Mmm, and what if I do?” You responded.

”Then I’d say you’re playing a dangerous game.” He murmured, his eyes darkening just a little in the lighting, “And I gotta warn you, I don’t like losing.” A knowing smile danced on your lips.

”Well too bad for you, cause I always win.” His fingers twitched at his side, his metal hand flexing slightly before he let it settle on his hip, like he was physically restraining himself from acting on whatever thoughts were running through his mind. His gaze flickered down, just for a moment, taking in the way the silky fabric of your dress clung to your frame, how that little tie at your hip was just begging to be undone, how the lace of your bra peaked out from the neckline, teasing him, tempting him.

”You really like pushing me, don’t you?” Your smirk widened, tilting your head, your lips almost touching his jaw.

”I just like seeing how much you can handle.” You could sense the lust filling up in Bucky’s eyes, the way they softened, the way his pupils dilated, the hint of blush that dusted his cheeks…You were making him frustrated, and you were enjoying every second of it. Before he could push the moment any further, a loud cough interrupted.

”Alright you two, break it up. No need to eye fuck in the middle of the party huh?” Sam said, wrapping his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him away from you slightly, hearing him let out a low groan.

”You’ve got the worst timing, Wilson.” Sam grinned, completely unfazed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. But considering you two were about five seconds away from turning this party into an erotic novel, I figured I’d save everyone the secondhand embarrassment.” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest.

”Jealous, Wilson?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, causing Sam to bark out a laugh.

”Of what? Watching Barnes go from brooding soldier to a lovestruck fool in real-time? Not in the slightest Y/N.” Bucky scoffed at the comment, shaking his head before sending you a side glance.

”We’ll take this up later.” He murmured, your smirk widening.

”I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” Before Bucky could say anything else, Sam tugged him toward the bar, waving a dismissive hand at you.

”Go on you little troublemaker, let the birthday boy have a drink before he explodes.” You watched them walk away, Bucky shooting a small glance over his shoulder, before he lost you in the crowd. You bit your lip, feeling your stomach twist, the excitement already building inside you.

The party continued in full swing, laughter and conversation filling the room, but despite the crowd, the music, and the drinks flowing freely, Bucky was the only thing on your mind. Even from across the room, you could feel his eyes on you. Every time you glanced in his direction, you found his gaze lingering, burning into you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it, and neither were you.

Then finally, you caught him while he was alone, leaning against the bar, with his fingers gripping the edge like he was physically restraining himself. You knew it was your chance to strike. You approached slowly, his eyes on you immediately, watching as you got through the crowd with ease. Finally you were in his space again.

”Enjoying the party?” You asked nonchalantly, swirling your vodka cran around in your glass, taking a small sip, licking the excess off your lips. Bucky gulped, his eyes flickering from your lips to the curve of your throat, down to where the silky fabric of your dress dipped just enough to tease.

”Am I enjoying the party?” He repeated, his voice rough, like it had been dragged over gravel. “I think you already know the answer to that.” You tilted your head, playing innocent.

”Oh? And what could the answer be?” Bucky exhaled sharply, as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

”I haven’t been paying attention to it because I’ve been looking at you all night.” Your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

”Good.” Was all you could muster up to say, seeing his eyes darken, his hand clenching around his whiskey. You took another slow sip of your drink, watching him, before stepping closer, pressing your body against his, barely. You could feel his body tense up beside you.

Your nails dragged lightly up his skin, trailing the veins of his arm, over his shoulder, then lower, ghosting over the solid plane of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He was crumbling, and you were enjoying every moment of it, because to you, the lust and his burning need for you was intoxicating. His breathing was uneven, and warm against your skin, as he cleared his throat.

”Y/N…If you keep touching me like this, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens next.” You revelled in the way his voice dropped an octave, straining, like he was barely hanging on. You got onto your tiptoes, leaning against him, your hot breath hitting the shell of his ear.

”Then don’t,” You whispered, letting your fingers trail down his stomach, his abs tensing beneath your touch. “Meet me in my room in five minutes.” You added, pulling back to see the way his jaw clenched at the instruction. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, like he was trying to steady himself, but you knew…You had him in the palm of your hand. His eyes flickered to yours, dark, burning, full of heat.

”Five minutes?” He murmured, confirming it with you. You smirked at the way his voice cracked slightly, nodding.

”Don’t make me wait, birthday boy.” You replied. Before he could say anything else you turned on your heel and walked away, swaying your hips deliberately, knowing full well that his gaze was on you. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you slipped through the crowd, weaving past the tipsy guests, going down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder, right as you entered your dimly lit room, closing the door behind you.

You let out a long exhale, tilting your head back to chug the rest of your drink, the anticipation building inside you like a burning coil. You walked over to your bed, grabbing his gift off the mattress, and hiding it in your nightstand, not wanting to give it to him just yet. Finally the door clicked open behind you, and before you could turn around the soft thud of it closing sent a shrill up your spine

“I think I waited four minutes,” Bucky rasped, pushing his hair out of his face, “Hope you don’t mind.” You smiled.

”Couldn’t even make it to five hmm?” You teased, keeping your distance from him.

”Not when I knew what was waiting for me in here.” You hummed, seeing his muscles tensing up. He was barely holding it together, and you were loving how worked up he was. Your fingers toyed with the knot of your dress, teasing without even touching him.

”Go sit on the bed.” You instructed softly. His eyes flickered with something dangerous, something dark, but he obeyed. Without a word, he walked over to the bed, turned and sat on the edge of it, his legs spreading slightly, his forearms resting on his thighs as he watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Good boy…” You praised, already seeing his pants tenting from his erection. His chest rose and fell slowly, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly, like he was on the verge of saying something, maybe begging even.

But you weren’t going to make it that easy for him.

You let your fingers slowly pull at the knot of your dress, watching as his eyes followed the movement with rapt attention. The silky fabric loosened, slipping off your shoulders before it cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet. His breath hitched audibly when he saw what was underneath, the intricate black lace, delicate and form fitting hugging every dip of your body, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him insane. You took your time stepping forward to place yourself between his parted legs, your body just inches from his.

”Fuck Y/N…Look at you.” He whispered, his eyes roaming over your body. You reached out, breaking the touch barrier, letting your fingers gently travel down his shoulders, feeling the tension coiling beneath his skin, the ridges of his muscles twitching under your touch, dragging your nails down the fabric of his shirt before reaching the hem of it, tracing your fingers along it. You leaned in just a bit.

”Take it off.” Your hot breath stuck to his cheek, as you moved back, seeing Bucky’s jaw clench, seconds before he obliged, pulling off the shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it to the side, pushing his hair out of his face, his hands scraping against the stubble on his cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You took in a deep breath, your hand pressing against his chest, feeling the heat that radiated off him, the straining of the muscles from the resistance he was still putting up. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

”Can I touch you now?” You held his gaze, seeing the sheer desperation in his eyes, glimmering behind his blown out pupils. Your touch trailed up to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse bounding against your fingertips.

”You can touch me…” A sharp exhale left his lips, his hands shooting out before you could change your mind, immediately pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into the lace on your hips. He placed a discreet kiss to the soft flesh of your stomach, before wrapping his arms around you to pull you onto his lap in one swift motion, your knees settling on either side of him, cushioned against the mattress beneath you, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

”Who gave you pointers on how to tease me so well?” He asked jokingly, his hands sliding up your back with slow, delicate strokes. You smirked.

”I know what makes you bounce off the walls, Bucky, I don’t need someone to teach me how to tease you…” You replied, feeling him placing open mouthed kisses along your collarbone, wetting the skin, each one sending tiny sparks down your spine. His hands stopped at the clip of your bra, tracing the trim of the lace with his fingertips as he hummed against you.

”Well you’re a fucking professional.” His tongue poking out to trail up your neck, your nails digging into his back, “And I can’t help myself because you are impossible to resist.” He whispered, his breath cooling the path of saliva on your skin. His hands, both warm and cool, pulled at the fastening of your bra slowly, loosening the garment, letting it slip from your shoulders. You slid your arms out from the straps, moving back to throw it off to the side, returning to him quickly, pressing your chest against his, your hearts beating in sync. He tilted his head up, his lips meeting yours, a slow-burning intensity pooling in the pit of your stomach. The kiss was deep, and unhurried, the both of you moving your hands along each other, touching every expanse of skin that was exposed. You opened your mouth for him, letting his tongue slip in, the taste of whiskey immediately hitting your senses, as you rocked your hips against him, earning a groan from Bucky, his hands slipping down to grip your hips tightly. You pressed against him even harder, adjusting your position so there was more pressure on his erection that was straining against the fabric of his pants.

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat, feeling the heat of your core pressing against him, the friction alone making his head fall back slightly, pulling away from the heated kiss in the process, exposing his throat to you. His breathing picked up just a little faster as you leaned in, your lips ghosting against his jaw, while you ran your hands down his chest, reaching for the buckle of his belt.

“Y/N…” He moaned breathlessly, his fingers digging into your hips even more.

”Shh,” You whispered, placing an opened mouthed kiss against the side of his neck, your teeth grazing over the semi-healed bruise you had left a few days prior, a smile ghosting over the skin, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. Your fingers moved quickly, undoing his belt, pulling it free in one smooth motion, the leather slipping through the loops with a soft swishing sound, throwing it over to the pile of clothes that continued to grow. His chest heaved, feeling your fingers returning to the button and zipper of his pants, your hands dipping beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin, and to push them off his hips. He lifted himself slightly, holding you with one hand as he pushed the pants down with the other, shaking them off his legs, his eyes still locked onto yours, bringing your body back down to his once he shook the fabric off his legs, his mouth meeting yours again in an all encompassing kiss, the both of your releasing harsh breaths, adjusting yourselves.

Your hips shifted against him, feeling a damp patch seeping through the fabric of his boxers, evidence of just how worked up you had gotten him already. You smiled into the kiss, pulling back to meet his gaze, a grunt escaping his throat.

”You’re fucking killing me here Y/N…Please god…” He whimpered, so desperate he felt like he was choking on his own breath. You reached down, dragging your fingers over the growing wet patch, over the outline of his cock, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, his hands flexing against your waist.

“Let’s take these off hmm?” Your voice remained so calm, yet his actions were so hurried that you were almost thrown off him because of how quick he shifted his hips up to help you push his boxers down. The second the last barrier for him was gone, his hands were immediately grabbing at your thighs, dragging you close to him, pressing you down over the soft, warm skin of his erection, the wetness from his precum causing you to shiver, knowing he was aching to be inside of you. You could hear his ragged, labored breathing, his vibranium hand splaying over your lower back, locking you into place so you didn’t move against him, like he was going to cum at any time because of how worked up he was. His forehead rested on yours, closing his eyes tightly, like he was trying to refocus, or distract himself from the overwhelming sensations that coursed through his veins. You reached up, pushing his hair away from his cheeks.

“I think I’ve tortured you enough hmm?” You teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction, seeing his eyelids flutter open, his gaze dark and hazy.

“You really have, I don’t think I’ll last long.” He admitted, his fingers trailing up your thigh to the lace trim of your underwear, “Can I please take these off?” He asked, his tone on the brink of whining. You nodded, only to hear the distinct rip of lace as he tore the side of them right at the seam, moving to the other side to do the same, taking the fabric off completely, letting it fall somewhere behind you.

”Bucky!” You scolded, breathless, looking down at him, seeing a smile coming up on his face, his hands slipping around to palm the curve of your ass, bringing you against him again.

”I’ll take you shopping tomorrow,” He murmured, his lips carefully dragging across your jaw, “You can pick out as many pairs as you want…But I gotta warn you, I might just end up ruining all of those too.” He added, massaging the supple flesh of your ass, before sliding his hands onto your thighs, shifting beneath you, adjusting himself. His pupils were completely blown wide, engulfing what little blue he had left from his irises, his lips were parted, and he was blushing so much his cheeks looked like they were suborned. You could feel his hands trembling against the flesh of your thighs, his body strung so tight that he was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

You shifted, lifting yourself just enough to reach between the both of you, your fingers wrapping around his cock, feeling how thick, and heavy he was in your grasp. Bucky let out a sharp, strangled moan against you, his fingers digging deeply into the soft flesh of your thighs, your thumb running over the tip, spreading the precum that dripped from it along the head, watching Bucky’s jaw fall open.

”Fuck, please, please, I’m gonna lose my mind Y/N…I need you so bad.” The words came out so jumbled you could barely make it out, all you could hear was how his voice was cracking, like he couldn’t take it anymore. You could feel your face heat up at how frustrated he was, as you slowly guided him against you, letting the head of his cock slip down your folds so he could feel how wet you were for him, the anticipation burning between the both of you.

Then you gently lowered yourself down onto him, taking him inch by inch, craving the stretch that his well endowed member provided every single time without fail. You could feel his arms tighten around you, as he let out a shuddered gasp, his forehead falling onto your shoulder, his breath coming in short uneven bursts. Once he was fully seated inside of you, pulsing faintly against your walls, he let out another shaky breath.

”Stay still…” He rasped, his voice wrecked, “Just for a m-minute…Just…Fuck I just need a moment.” You nodded, feeling him trembling beneath you. You smoothed your hands up his back, his muscles flexing slightly, his hot breath hitting the top of your breast.

“Fuck…Y/N…You’re gonna push me over the edge if you keep touching me like that.” You smiled down at him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

”Sorry…” You whispered, halting your movements, just settling your hands on his skin, feeling his heartbeat slamming against your chest. He let out a long shaky breath, his hands coming back to hold onto your waist. You could feel the tension coiled tight inside him, the pulsing of his cock, the way he lifted his head up off your shoulder and kissed the side of your neck.

“It’s never felt like this before…” He admitted, still taking in sharp breaths. You leaned back, looking down at him, pushing his damp hair off his sweaty forehead, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

“Well I did work you up quite a lot, I don’t do that often.” You explained, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “We can go slow though, maybe it’ll help relieve a bit of the tension.” You suggested gently, seeing his eyes slowly flutter open, looking up at you with a glistening gaze, his fingers squeezing the flesh on your hips softly.

”O-Okay.” He stuttered, holding you close as you shifted above him, moving your hips slowly, pulling off him before pushing back down, listening to him take in sharp breaths, a moan falling from his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Jesus…You…” He cut himself off with a groan, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against him even more. You leaned down.

”I what, Bucky?” You whispered, teasing, continuing your slow movements above him.

”You feel…” His words caught again, feeling your hips roll against his, drawing another sharp exhale from him, his eyes flickering up to yours, “You feel so good.” You reach out to him, holding his cheeks in your hands, leaning down to place a heated kiss against his lips, his mouth opening for you immediately, so your tongues can intertwine in a sloppy battle of dominance, your movements picking up in pace, a moan escaping Bucky’s throat, his hips pushing up to meet yours, the both of you pulling away from the kiss, lips swollen, your mouths glistening from the wetness of your tongues.

”I can’t believe this is all for me.” He rasped, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw, pulling you back down into another bruising kiss, moaning into your mouth, the hand on your jaw moving lower to hold your throat gently, squeezing just a little, making your breath hitch.

”I’m so fucking lucky…You’re so fucking perfect like this.” His hips snapping up to meet yours, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, a shiver rolling down your spine with how deep he was.

“Bucky…” His name spilled out from your lips, the tone in your voice triggering something in him. His vibranium arm wrapped around your waist, guiding your movements as he continued to thrust up to meet you, getting deeper each time, bottoming out.

“Tell me that no one makes you feel like this.” He whispered, holding your throat still, tightening just a little to heighten every sensation that wracked through your body.

”No one,” You breathed, “No one but you, Bucky.” A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest, his lips returning to yours, his desperation evident in the way he kissed you, in the way he moved inside you, staking his claim, even though he already knew he had you just where he wanted you, feeling you slowly surrender to him, just like he surrendered to you long ago. He held you in place, rutting up into you, dragging you closer to the edge, making you tremble in his arms, your nails scraping down his back.

“You’re all fucking mine.” He growled, nipping at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, “Fuck…I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” He moaned out, feeling your walls clench around him, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room. Your nails dug into his shoulders, a whimper escaping your lips, his teeth scraping over the column of your throat, his eyes staying on yours, every single nerve ending setting on fire in your body.

“Bucky…” His name tumbled from your lips, in a breathless, broken moan and it sent his self-control out the window, his hips snapping up to meet yours, pulling you flush against him. His vibranium hand pressing against your lower back, keeping you in place as he drove into you, deeper, harder, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you.

Your body arched, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm tore through you, so intense, so overwhelming, that a soft, choked sob escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, the sheer force of your release leaving you utterly undone. Bucky could feel your walls tighten on him, saw the way your body trembled above him, heard the way you gasped his name and clung to him, making his head spin.

“Fuck,” He growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of your back, burning himself inside you, as his own release took him under, his body tensing beneath you, groaning into the curve of your neck. You could feel his warmth filling you up in hot ropes, his body jerking against you to push his cum deeper into you. He sunk his teeth into the soft flesh where your neck and shoulder met, trying to hold himself still, trying to ground himself.

Then he felt it, the slight shake of your body, the uneven breaths…A sniffle. He pulled back immediately from your skin, looking up at you with his brows furrowed, catching sight of your glistening face, your lips parted as you tried to catch your breath.

”Shit,” His voice instantly changed, laced with concern, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his fingers feeling the dampness your tears had left in their wake, “Y/N…Fuck did I hurt you?” He asked, panic flickering behind his blown-out pupils, his thumb wiping beneath your eye. You shook your head quickly, letting out a breathless laugh.

”No, no,” You whispered, your voice still shaky from the aftershocks, “It was just so much all at once…In the best way possible.” You could see relief wash over his expression, though his eyes still searched yours, making sure you weren’t lying to him. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but instead he just pulled you closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your damp cheeks, your temple, your jaw, anywhere he could reach, tasting the saltiness of your tears.

After a moment, he shifted, lifting you effortlessly as he stood up, climbing onto the bed fully, laying you against the mattress, pulling out of you slowly, before the both of you intertwined your bodies, side by side, still keeping the close proximity, his arms tangling around you. He pressed absentminded kisses against your forehead, letting the silence stretch between you, his thumbs wiping off the remaining dampness that coated your cheeks. You hummed softly, your fingertips tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling weightless against him.

“We should probably head back out to the party soon.” You murmured, though there was no real conviction behind what you said. A groan rumbled in his chest, as he buried his face into your neck, kissing the flesh.

”I don’t think I’m gonna be able to move for at least fifteen minutes.” He admitted, the both of you laughing together in unison, as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

”I agree with you there, honestly…They probably already know where we are anyways.” You said, feeling his arm curling tighter around you.

”Oh they definitely know,” His voice was laced with exhaustion, but also with deep content, not having a care in the world at this point, only focusing on you.

“Doesn’t matter anyways…They knew we were gonna end up like this.” He nodded.

”Yeah because you’re a little sex maniac.” You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning into him, your heart racing at the way he continued to hold onto you, running his hands over your body, in a soothing caress. But then, a thought flickered in your mind…His gift. You had nearly forgotten in the haze of everything that had transpired.

You shifted slightly, reaching over him, opening up the drawer of your nightstand, feeling around for the long velvet box. Bucky turned himself, seeing what you were reaching for, his brows pulling together.

”What’s this?” He asked, as you handed it to him, sitting up a bit.

”It’s your real gift…” You informed, seeing Bucky smirk at you.

”Are you telling me the mind-blowing sex wasn’t the real gift?” You laughed, feeling your face heat up as you shook your head at him.

”No no…That was the pregame for this.” He squinted at you curiously, before he cracked open the box, his eyes immediately widening, sitting up instantly, his warmth leaving you, staring down at the box, at the knife it held. You sat up with him, shifting closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your arms wrapping around his stomach, paying attention to the way his fingers traced the engravings. Bucky swallowed loudly.

”These are coordinates?” He asked, and you nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade.

”The top one is for Brooklyn, and bottom one is for Avengers Tower…Brooklyn because that’s where you grew up with Steve, and here because it’s where you found yourself again…Where you found home, where you…” Found family, found belonging , found me, you thought, letting the sentence kind of trail off, not being able to finish it. There was a long moment of silence where neither of you said anything, as his fingers traced over the engravings, again, and again, committing them to memory through touch alone, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took.

“You really put a lot of thought into this.” He said, breaking the silence, trying to process everything.

”Of course I did,” You replied softly, your arms squeezing around him, “It’s you.” Another stretch of silence followed again. You were about to say something, maybe to lighten the moment, tease him about how he’d better not lose it, when he suddenly set the box down on the nightstand and turned toward you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. The embrace was firm, his face burying itself into your neck, as he took in a deep breath.

”God I love you…” He whispered so quietly that you almost missed it. Your heart nearly stopped. It slipped out of him like he had been holding it in for so long, and judging by the way he said it, he felt like now was the best time. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face, the look in his eyes breaking you, seeing the exact moment where the panic set in.

”i-I didn’t mean…” He sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head like he was trying to backpedal, attempting to put the words back into his mouth, “I mean, I did mean it but…Fuck I didn’t mean to say it like that, I…” His fingers twitched along your back, pulling back a little more so you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest.

”I-I don’t want to freak you out, I’m not trying to push anything, I swear I just…” His eyes darted over your face, trying to read your expression. He acted like he’d just detonated a grenade and was waiting to see if you were going to run.

“Bucky.” You whispered, reaching up to cup his face between your hands, your thumbs running over the stubble on his cheeks, watching him shake his head.

”I’ve been wanting to say it for so long,” He admitted, “But I didn’t want to make things weird, and I didn’t want to lose you…I didn’t want to ruin what was happening between us…” You felt your heart clench at his words, the admission hitting you in waves, the questions beginning to flood your mind. You wondered how long he felt this way, or how long he kept these feelings from you. Of course you knew he liked you, he wouldn’t have agreed to the casual relationship if he did, but you wanted to know when he started feeling love for you.

Slowly, you pressed your forehead against his, feeling the heat of his breath against your lips, his figure shuddering at the contact, thinking that this would be the last time he was going to be this close to you.

”Bucky.” You murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger, soothing the panic that was rolling off him. When you pulled back, his lips parted, and his eyes opened to search yours. He was about to say something but you interrupted.

”I love you too.” You added, a smile slowly coming up on your face, his eyes leaving yours for a moment.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” He murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach you. Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, at the way he still thought this might not be real. You ran your thumbs over the stubble again, leaning down to look into his eyes.

”I wouldn’t do that, Bucky...” You replied, feeling his fingers twitching along your back.

”So…You really mean it?” He asked. You let out a soft laugh, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips, slower this time, more intentional, hoping that it would drive home the point. You pulled back slightly.

”Yes…” You said, pecking his lips again, “I’ve been wanting to say it too, I just didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.” Bucky let out a shaky exhale, his forehead dropping against yours.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been holding it in,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. His arms curled around you, pulling you in impossibly close, like he was trying to mold you against him. “I thought maybe I was imagining it, you know? That maybe I was just reading too much into things, seeing what I wanted to see.” You smiled at the way he explained himself, the nervousness that still ran behind the words.

”No, I was definitely dropping some hints.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. The silence wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, it was charged, filled with the unspoken understanding between you, the realization that this was no longer just casual, that it had never really been.

Bucky shifted, pulling you onto his lap again so that you were straddling him, his hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. His blue eyes were impossibly soft as he studied you, like he was trying to memorize every single detail. “I was so scared,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to ruin this.”

Your fingers traced along his jaw, tilting his chin slightly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” you reassured him, smiling softly. “You just made it better.”

Bucky let out a shaky breath before he leaned in, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss. This one was different from the others—not rushed, not fueled by lust or desperation, but something deeper. His lips moved against yours gently, savoring the moment.

908 notes · View notes

atlabeth · 5 months ago

Text

unadulterated loathing (pt 1)

masterlist

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.

a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!

wc: 5.5k

warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff

Your fingers were beginning to cramp.

You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.

He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible.

Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through.

Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether.

You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner.

“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.”

The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time.

Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it.

You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name.

Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal.

“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk.

“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.”

His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.

“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”

“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”

Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”

“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”

Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?

That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over.

“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”

“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”

You blinked. He would do this to you.

Why would he do this to you?

“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”

You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?

“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”

“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”

Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”

Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”

“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?”

“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?”

“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.”

“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”

“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”

“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”

“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”

You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”

“You’d be correct.”

You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”

He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours.

“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”

You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.”

“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.”

“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.”

He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.”

“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.”

“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.”

Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back.

Oh, how you loathed group projects.

The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong.

You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted.

“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.”

“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.”

“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.”

“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.”

Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.”

You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.”

She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.”

“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.”

“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.”

“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.”

“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.”

Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away.

He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it.

“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?”

Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed.

“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.”

Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.”

“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?”

“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”

“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?”

“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.”

“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said.

Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!”

“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.”

“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.”

That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing.

He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you.

He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more.

He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there.

Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.

True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.

You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together.

Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless.

Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled.

“Sorry. You were in the zone.”

“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”

“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”

“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said.

“I know my way around a lot of things.”

You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”

“I’m sure I could make it one.”

“If you bothered to think at all.”

“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”

“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled.

“I have more important things to worry about,” he said.

You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.

“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”

“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”

“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”

“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”

“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed.

“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”

“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”

You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you.

You frowned. “Is there a problem?”

“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead.

“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.

Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”

Your frown deepened. “Really?”

“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”

“Just you.”

“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”

“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”

“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?”

“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”

“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”

“What are you majoring in?” you asked.

“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”

“Not really a surprise,” you said.

“Really?”

“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.”

“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”

“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.”

He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?”

“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.”

“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.”

You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent.

“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?”

You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.”

“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.”

“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.”

“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.”

Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?”

He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!”

“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?”

Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.”

You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”

“Utterly charming?”

“Entirely insufferable.”

You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him.

“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.

“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.”

“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?”

“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.”

“Like?”

“Like my studies.”

“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?”

“Ha ha,” you said dryly.

He tilted his head. “Do you?”

You frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”

Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”

“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”

A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected.

“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”

Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”

Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”

“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”

You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”

“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.”

“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.”

“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.”

“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said.

You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.”

“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.”

“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.”

Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.”

“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked.

“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften.

“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”

“I don’t have—”

You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”

Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”

“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”

He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”

You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now.

Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign.

Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence.

You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all.

But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.

It was nice. But that was all.

You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.

“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”

He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”

“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”

Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”

“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”

“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”

He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”

“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?”

Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?”

“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.”

“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”

“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming.

“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed.

“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.”

“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?”

Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.”

“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”

Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.

“You need a break,” he said.

“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”

You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?”

You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.”

“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.”

You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand.

“You need a break.”

You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look.

“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly.

You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”

Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed.

“Shall we?” he murmured.

You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you.

“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast.

Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”

“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”

He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”

You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”

Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile.

“Yes?”

“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”

“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”

Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him.

Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm.

That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before.

You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience.

It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—

You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them.

You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps.

“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”

“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”

Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”

“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh.

There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.

Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep.

#fiyero tigelaar x reader #fiyero x reader #wicked x reader #fiyero x you #fiyero tigelaar x you #fiyero movie x reader #wicked movie x reader

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fayesia · 17 days ago

Text

Footsies

dbsf!Joel x reader

a/n: buckle up yall, this was a long one. I honestly posted the poll for fun because I wanted to write all 3 stories anyways to show my thanks for all the support I've been getting on my blog. So fret not if the one you chose didn't win because it will be posted anyways. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did writing it, much love Faye xoxo♡

wc: 4.3k

UNEDITED

It only happened once.

You'd forgotten to do it for the first time.

Usually aware about the fifty-something year old man's bedroom window across from yours. Yet in your restless need tonight the thought slipped away like the blankets on your silk sheets.

Your beige curtains, pushed aside to cover one-third of the window, enough to allow the evenings golden glow to pass through and illuminate the room.

Now in the late hours of the night it was your bedside lamp leaving a yellow hazy glow across the expanse of your skin.

Your clothes quick to follow your blanket, just a scrap of white lace material left on you.

Joel's limbs stumbled upstairs, his eyes heavy from the exhaustion of today's work, motivated by the thought of falling into bed and sleeping through the weekends morning. He entered his room going directly towards his drawers to place his cash and watch.

Too late to realise he didn't even switch the lights on, your rooms lamp was enough to pass through his window.

Upon this realisation he looked up.

A sharp inhale and then stillness, like one more breath or movement would give his position away. Almost like he'd get caught enjoying what he was seeing. An old man in his fifties watching a young twenty year olds hands roaming all over herself.

God he was disgusting and he loved it.

"Fuck", his hand palmed the front of his jeans, a bulge already forming.

The first contact of your fingers with your centre had your back arching, mouth ajar to let out a whimper.

Joel turned away, "fuck am I doing...", his hand gripping his own blinds to shut them but it was almost like some external force was stopping him. The internal battle being his dick and brain arguing between lust and reason.

His eyes danced across your body, the way your hands caressed your tits, rubbing them together and pinched your nipples. Joel imagined how soft they'd feel in his hand, the way you'd whimper when his grey stubble scratched against your sensitive nipples as his face was buried between the supple fat of your breasts.

At this point there was no going back, Joel's hand was already wrapped around himself, the precum that stained his jeans dripped down the length aiding as a lubricant.

Your hands rubbed yourself through the thin lace cloth, the material scratched against your clit perfectly, and you could already feel how damp it had gotten. The slick liquid seeping out of your hole and into the fabric. Lifting your hips, you hooked your fingers into the panties and slid them down your legs.

Joel nearly let out a growl as strands of your wetness created a bridge between your panties and wet folds. His tip spurted out more precum and if he didn't know better he'd have thought he already came. The white liquid made a bigger mess as his hand worked along his length, his closed fist pushing it closer to his crotch where it dripped to his balls and soaked into the denim.

It was almost painful, the way you teased him so coyly.

Gripping onto the side of the dresser, his nails dug crescents into the old wood. Joel couldn't look away, like a moth to a flame, his eyes followed the course of your hand. Watching you throw your panties to the pile of clothes and then return to your centre where your fingers swirled through the wet mess.

He could just imagine how warm you'd feel, the slick would stick to his fingers and he'd drag them to his mouth to taste your sweet nectar before feeding it to you for a taste of yourself.

You dragged your first two fingers downwards, not entering but just teasing yourself to want more. God, Joel knew five minutes with him and you'd break.

Your mouth opened wider as your fingers entered your pussy, Joel's expression matching as he sped up the movements of his hand.

He watched as one hand worked to drag you to climax while the other squeezed your tits. He could just picture himself stuffing you full of his fingers, you struggling to take the large size of them, while he bit at your nipples drawing out the sweetest noises.

He knew it was wrong yet the taboo nature of it seemed to spur him on more.

Reaching your peak, your fingers slid faster in and out of yourself, the sheer need for release had your palm slapping perfectly against your clit and your head turning from side to side.

Stuffing your face into the pillows to muffle your screams you arched your back off the bed, with stuttering movements of your fingers trying to lengthen the sensation of your climax.

Joel watched as your chest heaved up and down, his eyes briefly shutting to picture how sweet your face would look while on your knees stroking his cock. Your mouth struggling to fit all of him as he shoved himself down ur throat, tears rolling down your face as his release shot out.

Looking down he saw his cum rolling down his hand "shit...fuck ya doing to me", shaking his head he looked out the widnow to see you already under the sheets, lamp off with only the moonlight outlining your silhouette.

You woke up the next morning after the mind blowing orgasm you waited all week for. Sliding out of bed to go get breakfast after slipping into your robe, you expected your dad to be working in the backyard like most Saturday mornings.

Heading downstairs you turned a corner to the kitchen where you bumped into a hard wall. Except there was no hard wall, just the chest of your old neighbour with that deep Texan voice that had your knees weak. Staring up at him you were lost for words, too confused at what he was doing in your house after you just woke up wearing nothing but a robe that's knot was getting looser by the second.

Joel's strong hands grabbed your shoulders to keep you steady, his eyes widening at the cleavage peaking through before his eyes met yours and that soft smile returned.

"Careful sweetheart, wouldn't want ya getting hurt now."

Nodding your head slowly you mumbled a small sorry, trying to avoid eye contact so he wouldn't see the deep flush across your cheeks.

He let out a cough moving out of the way to let you through.

"Sorry bout that, I'll let you on your way now-wait wouldn't happen to mind pointing me to the bathroom"

"What..oh yeah of course just up the stairs, second door to the right."

"Thanks"

Brushing past you up the stairs, Joel's hand pressed against the small of your back, a little lower then one would deem appropriate but you barely noticed.

Heading to the fridge your dad walked past with a bottle of water.

"Hey hun, got Joel over to work on the pool, want to get that working for the summer neighbourhood barbecues."

"Sounds great dad, be careful with your back"

"Oh come on now, should be saying that to Joel, he's got a few years on me"

"Whatchu saying about me, old man?" Joel's voice rang out as he jokingly punched your dad on the shoulder. Laughing together, the two of them walked out to the backyard.

Maybe if your back wasn't turned to the two you would've seen the familiar white cloth peeking from Joel's back pocket.

Joel reached the top of the stairs, now was it a right or left, maybe he knew deep down which way was right but he was just oh so curious. Opening the door he caught sight of a new perspective of what your room looked like, this time not through your window which he could see beside the bed. Walking forward his shoe stood over something, looking down he saw your shirt and on top of them was your panties.

The way your voice would whine out when he keeps using his tongue to fuck you. This was his breaking point. He used your underwear to wrap around his cock, his liquids mixing with yours as he spurted into the lace. Hoping for no mess, but he was sure he'd have missed a few drops, a surprise for you to find.

The very same white lace underwear you wore yesterday. Crouching down Joel picked them up, his fingers still feeling the dampness from your need. Groaning he bought them to his face, nose stuffed deep in the cloth that covers your pussy, as he inhaled as much as he could. The scent of you like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Immediately he felt the blood rush to his cock, the bulge through his jeans prominent.Unbuckling his belt he unzipped them to pull his dick out, pressing the panties harder until he said fuck it and stuck his tongue out. The first taste of you was a high he would never reach again. At this point he had the panties crotch stuffed in his mouth, jerking himself up and down nearly cumming. He imagined tasting your pussy, wrapping his mouth around your clit and running his tongue through your wet folds. Your thighs squeezing around his head as you let this old man eat your young sweet cunt.

Joel knew it was wrong but he fucking loves it, your oblivious self wouldn't ever know.

His gaze locked onto yours and for a second you thought you had spoken your thoughts aloud, the way his mouth turned up into a smirk, almost like he read your mind and was teasing you.

Your dad and Joel spent majority of the day working on the pool. By lunchtime you had already made sandwiches and cold drinks, unbeknownst to Joel's eyes roaming your body. Scanning the way your thighs looked in those tiny cotton shorts and how your nipples poked out of the thin singlet you had on to fight the hot summer air. He was glued to how your ass poked out when you bent over to put the plates down.

By 5pm they came back inside, from the couch in the living room you watched Joel's broad frame covered in sweat soaking his grey shirt, he drank water like he was dying of thirst. He took large gulps as droplets escaped from the corners of his mouth, dripping over the veins on his neck, god you wished you could lick them.

Your dads voice broke you away from your thoughts.

"Ah come on Joel, sure you can stay for dinner, not like you got anyone waiting for you at home and you know Annie cooks up a storm in the kitchen."

Chuckling Joel shook his head, knowing there was no point starting this conversation with your dad, he was persistent when it came to taking care of Joel, he was lonely at home as much as he'd never admit it.

Turning around to place his glass in the sink, you noticed something white hanging out of Joel's pocket, the fabric was familiar but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Placing the final dish down you took a seat across from Joel. It had taken a while but by the time you finished setting the table you realised exactly why that fabric was recognisable. The lace pattern was the exact same as the panties you wore last night.

Seems like someone had done a little bit of snooping and you knew just how to get back at him.

The conversation flowed swiftly, your mother raving to your dad and Joel about her day at work, while he updated her on the progress of the backyard. Poking at the vegetables on your plate you decided now would be a good time to act.

Raising your leg your foot creeped it's way up Joel's denim clad leg. Releasing a grunt in surprise he tried to cover it up with a few coughs, your mother tapping your arm to go get him and your dad a beer from the fridge. Holding the back of Joel's chair you leaned forward to place the glass bottle next to his plate, rubbing yourself just a bit to close into his side, prompting a heavy release of air from him.

Settling back in your seat you plastered a small smile onto your face, your plan was just beginning.

"You alright there Joel?"

Your foot returned back to its previous position, currently rested on Joel's thigh while the conversation continued. Your mum changed her direction of questions to Joel, asking about his work and what he did on his offdays. As soon as his mouth opened to answer you straightened out for leg resting your foot on his crotch, he stuttered an answer out, your dad giving him a questioning look.

"Mhm sorry think the beer went down the wrong pipe haha"

It's not like he could tell his best friend their daughters foot was rubbing on the growing bulge in his jeans.

After 30 more second of your relentless moving his hand reached under the table to grip your ankle, his face taking shape of a disapproving look, brows furrowed and mouth downturned into a frown.

Then your fork fell, your mother shaking her head making a joking comment about your clumsiness.

Crawling down under the table you acted to search around for your fork, making your way to Joel's legs where your hands rubbed up his thighs, he could feel the tine weight of your fingertips getting dangerously close to his cock hardening in his pants. Getting back to your chair you smiled turning to your mother.

"Found it"

Shaking her head at you, Joel and your dad walked over to the living room, a little stagger in Joel's steps, while you began cleaning the table.

Your dad returned soon,

"Don't worry hun, I'll help your mum out, you go keep Joel company before he leaves."

With a nod you made your way over to the next room.

"So what was that all about sweetheart?"

"I don't know what you mean."

You tilted your head to the side, acting confused.

"Oh come on you were practically giving me a foot job in front of your parents."

He scoffs out.

"Oh come on don't act like my panties aren't shoved into your back pocket right now." You mocked him, crossing your arms across your chest only accentuating the cleavage of your breast in your shirt.

His mouth opened to respond but he had to stop himself, shocked that you had found out or rather how you found out. Patting his back pocket he realised the small flap of cloth hanging out.

Well fuck...too late now.

You had already walked closer to him in his daze, your feet only inches apart as you stared up, scanning for any sign of doubt.

Yet when he saw the proximity between you both, it was a ravaging look in his eyes.

With one hand tangled in your hair his other pressed your back pushing you forward into him as his mouth met yours.

You said your goodbye too, a small wave, unexpectedly Joel pulled you in for a hug, the kind your parents thought was just friendly. But they didn't hear the words he whispered into your ear.

You could taste the beer he just had and a mild after-taste of a cigarette he must've smoked before dinner. It felt like you were drowning in the warmth of both, melting into his strong arms that held you up. Moaning into his mouth he took his chance to slip his tongue past your lips, the two of you wrestling for dominance but a sharp tug in your hair had you submitting.

A passing pair of footsteps had you pushing Joel away leaving a metre distance between the two of you. Your dad passed by and you hoped to god he wouldn't see the pieces of your hair out of place or your swollen lips that still lingered with the taste of Joel. Leading him to the door your parents said their goodbyes, requesting that Joel come by more often for dinner once you left for college.

Leave your window unlocked, wanna swing by tonight yea?

Locking the door, your parents bid you goodnight heading upstairs, catching sight of the two wine glasses and bottle of red that your mum held you knew they would be unconscious within a hour.

A tingly feeling filled your body and you felt a warm pool of heat in your stomach as you skipped down the hall from the kitchen to your room. The downstairs bedroom window would be more than easy for Joel's aged body to get into and you unlocked it before heading to your closet to change, giggling to yourself at the insanity of the situation.

Taking out a matching set of cream pyjamas you decided to leave on the pink lace panties that matched the white ones Joel stole.

By the time you had finished getting ready for bed, switched the lights off, lit a nice vanilla candle and gotten under the sheets, Joel slid the window open. He slid it closed behind him taking his jacket off before walking towards your bed.

"Watchu laughing at girl"

"Nothing"

Hiding behind your hand you stifled a laugh at how this 57 year old man looked like a teenager sneaking into his girlfriends room on a Friday night.

"Hm that's what I thought, now come here"

Joel's arms wrapped around you, resuming where your last make out session left off. This time you unabashedly returned the kiss, moaning into his mouth while trying to be quiet at the same time. Pulling away you leaned forward to try reconnect but Joel stopped you.

"You sure you won't regret this honey, you're still young you know. Don't owe anything to an old man like me"

"Want you Joel please..please want you so bad"

"Okay okay baby don't worry I'm right here"

Moving quickly Joel unbuttoned you top and removed your shorts.

"Fuckkk wore these for me did you babygirl"

Nodding you shifted your hips showing off the bows that adorned the sides. He smiled tracing them with his fingers before feeling the soft skin of your thighs. Your whined pawing at his shirt, lifting the material to see underneath.

"Alright I got it..don't want to rush this baby"

Chucking his shirt onto your bedroom floor he unbuckled his belt and removed his jeans too, leaving both of you in your underwear. Crawling into his lap you kisses him again, this time he dragged his lips down your neck, drawing out more noises from you. His lips kissed down to your breasts where he lavishly licked at each nipple, soaking both in his spit and watching them harden from the cold air of your room.

"You want it nice and slow hun"

Shaking your head Joel's head tipped back releasing a groan.

"Your killing me over here baby"

Pushing you back against your pillows Joel crawled til his face met your covered centre. He could feel the heat omitting off that area and couldn't wait to dive in.

"What do you need sweetie, tell your daddy nice and clearly"

Whining from both the embarrassment and and your neediness you replied,

"Please Joel, just want you-please daddy want you to touch my pussy"

Growling into your cunt Joel ripped you pink lace thong off you throwing it somewhere as he dove mouth first onto you.

You could only describe it at electrifying, his tongue worked like magic on you, exploring the folds and dragging your wetness up to you clit where his mouth collected all the liquid and drank it like his life depended on you. He couldn't get enough of the taste, it was so sweet, so you.

You yanked at your Joel's greying hair, eyes shut tight in euphoria as he held onto your thighs to stop your legs from shaking.

"Fuck..gonna come fuck daddy"

"Yeah show me how you come baby, come all over my tongue."

Your words spurred him on, his tongue pushing through your entrance, it was a point of depravity he couldn't turn back from. Wanting his best friends daughter to come on his tongue as he fucked you with it. A finally suck of your clit had you shaking, reaching that climax you desperately held onto, Joel continuing to lick you in the hopes of making it last longer.

"Oh god daddy..pleasplease fuck no more"

Lifting his head Joel licked his lips but he knew when he kissed you that you would taste yourself, more accurately you'd feel the mess you left on his grey speckled stubble. You tugged down Joel's boxers, slipping them off you watched his thick, heavy length spring up against his soft abs. Your eyes widened not expecting that. It was long, and thick, the tip was angry and red with veins adorning most of the length. His balls looked full and heavy and he had a thatch of pubic hair trailing up to his happy trail.

"Well don't just sit there staring at him baby, daddy doesn't have all night."

Absentmindedly nodding your hand reached out to barely fully wrap around it. He hissed at the tight grip you had on him.

"Up and down sweetie"

The longer you did just that, the more white precum dribbled from his tip and coated your fingers. Joel thought the sight was sinful, fuck the whole situation was taboo. An old man with a sweet girl like you. It was a a porn cliché as old as time. He couldn't take it anymore.

Manhandling you, he spread your legs and pushed your knees to meet your shoulders, the position exposed everything but you'd never felt more comfortable with someone like you did with Joel. He slapped your wet puffy cunt with his thick cock, the sounds of skin against skin echoed in your room and had you getting wetter.

"Bit of a tight fit, but you're gonna take all of daddy aren't you"

Nodding you agreed.

"Please, please want all of it wanna be full of you."

"Fuck here we go baby"

The tip went in first, it stretched you out already, Joel watched your tiny tight pussy struggle to take him, around the half way point you were already fucked out.

"No more daddy, too full please"

"Just a bit more baby come on make daddy happy"

"Mmmh fuck"

Joel pushed the final half in groaning at the sensation of your wet pussy lips meeting the base of his cock. You were definitely tight, so warm like a pillow moulded around his dick.

"All in. Can daddy move sweetheart"

"Pleaseplease don't stop"

Chuckling at your change in mood, Joel held onto your thighs and started moving in and out. His pace picked up speed quickly and before you knew it the sound of his cock entering you was like a ringing alarm. Relentless and loud. His thighs slapped against the back of yours and he was shoving you deeper in the mass of pillows with half of them already having fallen off. Your eyes squeezed shit and your pussy tightened around him.

"Oh yea baby do that again, fucking taking your daddy so good aren't you. Meant to take this big daddy dick."

"Fucking filthy. My fucking filthy slut, whoring yourself out to me. I could be your fucking father. Heck I could be your grandpa. You don't care though, baby just needs something to fill up her wet cunt."

Joel accentuated each sentence with a thrust reaching that special soft spot in you. It didn't take very long for you to reach your peak.

"Please daddy wanna come, please let me come"

"Yeah baby come on my dick, wanna feel that fucking pussy tighter around me"

Nodding your head Joel's hand grabbed your jaw, squishing your face and forcing your eyes to open.

"Nuh uh, baby you aren't coming if your eyes are closed, wanna see your eyes on me the whole time."

"Ngh okay daddy-fuck I'm coming daddydaddydaddyy"

You said it like in a trance, tongue hanging out of your mouth with a string of drool hanging off it, a single tear rolling down your cheek from the stimulation that Joel kissed away. One of his hands held onto your boob, twisting and rubbing your nipple while squishing the soft flesh. His other hand pushed your right leg further back, almost folding you in half as his held tilted back to growl nearly animalisitically at the ceiling. With a final groan, almost moan, Joel thrust deep in you one last time.

"Gonna cum baby, daddy's gonna fill you up, stuff you full of his cum til it's overflowing and dripping out."

Bracing your hands on Joel's solid chest you mewled out feeling his cum shoot inside your pussy, a load being pumped into you an when you thought it was over there was more.

Finally Joel finished, wrapping his arms around you to lay your head on his chest. Kissing the top of your head he cradled your limp exhausted body.

With a teasing smile you looked up at him.

"Not too bad for an old man"

"Baby we both know I'd still fuck you just as good in my sixties"

"We'll just have to wait and see then huh daddy?"

"You fucking kill me sweetie"

Chuckling against your forehead he placed one last kiss against it, basking in the last moments he had with you before he'd have to crawl out your window in the early hours of the morning.

#smut #oneshot #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #tlou #the last of us #tlou2

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